


Wild Soul

by Ithiel_Dragon, virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, M/M, Romance, Unrelated Winchesters, Werewolf Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-16
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-06 02:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10323788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiel_Dragon/pseuds/Ithiel_Dragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: When Sam Winchester is ten years old his father and Bobby leave him alone in a motel in Washington while they hunt a wendigo.  He's instructed not to leave the motel but he does anyway, and unexpectedly finds a young wolf caught in a trap.  He frees the wolf and nurses it back to health.  When Sam is caught by the wendigo, he is saved by the wolf.  John and Sam leave soon after.  Five years later, John and Sam return to Washington, this time hunting werewolves.  In his new school Sam meets a boy named Dean Winchester.This work is incomplete and abandoned, it will never be completed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story uploaded by Ithiel Dragon. This was a roleplay story I was involved in several years ago on a forum called Devil's Gate. Ithiel Dragon played Dean Winchester, and some other characters. Virtual Personal (as Cas) played Sam Winchester, and some other characters. I am posting this story in its entirety and unedited. The page breaks are where the author changed. Maybe one day I will go back and edit it into a more proper story format, but don't hold your breath. I'm mostly posting this story here so I don't lose it. I still think its a pretty good read the way it is, but it is still obviously a roleplay. You've been warned.

Sam was tired of sitting around and waiting. He was tired of being bored and of having no one to talk to. He was sick of the T.V. and he'd read his books so many times he could probably quote them. He was also done huffing and puffing about it, he decided, shutting the T.V. and crossing the motel room to get his jacket off the back of the chair. Making sure he had a knife on him, he grabbed the keys, hesitated at the door, and then walked out.  


  
His dad's warnings, make that orders, were fresh in his mind. He was to stay in the motel room and not leave for any reason. There was cereal and other food and their room came with a small kitchenette, so his dad said there was no excuse for needing to go out until he and uncle Bobby got back. That was two days ago and now it was the middle of the third day. If they were going to stay in this town for a while, then his dad should have let him go to school here, or something.

Shoving his hands into his jacket pocket, the ten year old let out a hot breath that immediately misted in the cold air. The motel was on the main street of the small town in Washington, up near the Canadian border. At least he had store windows to look inside of, not that he had money to buy things, or that he even needed anything. He did like to people watch though, especially when he passed little restaurants where families sat together, talked, and laughed. Watching a father pull his son's cap down over the kid's face as a joke, he just knew in his heart that man never left his son alone. That he listened to what the kid had to say and it wasn't all rules. Every sentence probably didn't start with a 'no' or a 'don't'... he'd bet that was true.

He remembered that uncle Bobby had caught him looking at a family one time and gruffly said something about appearances being deceiving and the grass being greener on the other side. But looking at this family, Sam thought if even half of what he was seeing was real, it was good... it was better than what he'd ever known, or would ever know.

Pulling away from the window, he walked on, taking a last lungful of air tinged with the scent of the sweet desserts they sold at the restaurant. That's what 'family' smelled like, he decided right there and then.

Looking down, he felt a little guilty. Yeah he had a mom once. He'd seen her pictures. She was real pretty, but he couldn't see any of himself in her, or in his dad for that matter. And he couldn't remember any of the times that the pictures had been taken. He was too young to remember crawling to the Christmas tree and reaching for an ornament, or being placed on top of the hood of the Impala between his parents and taking a picture at some scenic spot. The times when they were allowed to celebrate, or take a breath and have a fun moment, those times were long gone... gone before Sam's first memories. Looking at the pictures was just like looking through that glass window... at someone else's family... someone else's perfect life.

He told himself it was stupid to think about it, to obsess over it. By now he should be used to this... his life as written by his dad. Moving around all the time. Never getting to finish or see the end of anything.... school, plays that he practiced for nothing for, events he couldn't go to because John Winchester felt there might danger. That had Sam scoffing. It wasn't danger when his dad took him shooting or hunting, but a night soccer game when his dad couldn't be around... yeah, that could be deadly.

Seeing a an old fashioned gas station that looked like what you saw in movies from the sixties, he walked into the mini mart and got himself a coke. Counting his change, he looked at the cashier. "I'd given you a ten."

"It was a five."

"It was a ten and it has a mustache drawn over Hamilton's mouth."

The guy pulled the bills out of his register, gave Sam a second look and counted out more change. "It's illegal to deface money."

"A fine and not more than six months in prison, I know. Didn't say I did it," he noted, pocketing the money. He didn't point out that the penalty for theft was longer but just twisted the top off the bottle and headed out. A bell sounded when he opened the door, and he let it swing closed behind him. A hot drink might have been better, he thought, but it was too late. Pulling his collar up, he continued walking and looking around.

At some point, he saw the local high school. Running up to the fence, he put his fingers through the links and watched some older kids playing football on the field, and others running track. It was the weekend so there wasn't a whole lot of activity other than on the field. After watching from outside for a while, he went to the gate and walked inside and sat on the bleachers for a while. It was something to do and better than staring at four walls. Maybe an hour later, he had just stepped down from the bleachers when a ball came towards him. He caught it but it had been moving very fast and he was pushed into the bleachers. As he handed it off to the athlete who came to get it, the guy actually ruffled his hair, called him a "runt' and said he could play when he grew up.

Glaring at him, Sam made his way out of the school.

There was a trail going into the woods. He bet he could make his way through it and end up behind their motel, his sense of direction was real good. The fact that his dad would probably have his head if he knew about this only made Sam more determined to explore a little and get back before it got dark. Sure, if dad got back today and caught him outside, he'd catch hell. But it would be ten times worse if it was nighttime.

Leaves and twigs crunched under his sneakers as he made his way. The trees towered over him, their trunks had some moss all over them. Most of the trees had not lost their leaves and as he walked, whenever he made a sound,, he noticed the birds would take off from wherever they were hidden on the branches. It became a game. He'd walk quietly and then suddenly make noise. He did it over and over until it stopped being amusing. Hmmm, maybe he would carve 'Sam was here' into the bark of one of these trees next. It was something to do and better than getting back too soon.

* * *

Something woke him.

He wasn't even sure when he'd fallen asleep, pure exhaustion finally taking its toll and pulling him under into blissful unconsciousness. It had been a blessing. A brief respite from the pain. But now that respite was over. Slowly the wolf's eyes slid open, blinking weakly in the afternoon light filtering through the thick trees. Normally the green eyes, unusual for a wolf, were so bright they nearly glowed but now they were dulled, almost grey, with pain. His fur, normally a glossy pitch black was tangled and matted with mud and blood.

His own blood.

He wasn't supposed to be here. He was too close to the human town. His pack had told him countless times not to come here yet he had disobeyed. Young and rebellious they called him. Always getting into trouble. Perhaps it was true, but he couldn't help it. He was fascinated by the people that lived in the town and he liked to come and watch them. Most of the time he was never seen, he was careful, slipping in and out of the woods like a shadow in the dark. The few occasions he had been seen he'd been mistaken for a dog. He was still young, not a cub anymore but not fully grown. But if someone looked at him long and hard enough they would know what he was.

Maybe someone had seen him and finally realized what he was? What other reason could there be for the trap that had never been here before? A huge, steel, bear trap that he had bounded into carelessly three days ago and was still holding him prisoner. It was probably a miracle he hadn't bled to death yet. His leg was surely broken and no matter what he'd tried he couldn't free himself from the trap. Moving only caused him more agony and he'd finally given up. Laying as still as possible and waiting for a rescue that had never come.

He'd howled weakly for his pack to come help him but they hadn't answered. No one had come for him. Not even the humans who had set up the trap. He wouldn't live for much longer. If the blood loss didn't kill him dehydration soon would.

The wolf whimpered softly.

The sound again. He hadn't imagined it. A breaking twig. A rustling of leaves through the trees. There was someone there. Was it his pack? Finally come to rescue him? The young wolf whimpered louder. Pleadingly. But what if it wasn't his pack? What if it was a human come to finish the job? At this point he almost wished it was. A quick death would be better than this slow agonizing torture waiting for his life to bleed out, or for another animal to come and devour him.

* * *

The pained whimper had Sam whipping around, one hand reaching out to the tree trunk next to him, ready to hide behind it. Standing absolutely still, he listened to the silence. Just when he started to wonder if he'd only imagined the sound, he heard it again. It was no closer to him then before.

Slowly, trying to step only on the wet or leafless areas of the ground to make less noise as he walked, Sam made his way toward the sound. Probably he shouldn't be investigating it on his own but if he thought like that, since he was often alone, it would mean he would have to ignore the world around him most of the time. A high pitched whine sounded and he moved just a little quicker, but still being very careful .

Passing between a couple of closely set trees, he found himself in a small clearing and saw an almost motionless dog that had its leg trapped between the steel teeth of a large animal trap. Instinct had him running toward it and dropping down right next to it, and that was when he realized this was no dog. It was a wolf. His heart jumped and he almost backed away from it, but the animal was hardly moving. Its eyes opened, but it didn't look to Sam like it was even aware that he was there. "How about you don't bite me and give me rabies, and I see if I can get you out of this," he said softly.

Carefully, he touched the trap, making a face at all the blood on the ground and on the leaves. The wolf had lost a lot of blood and the way it was laying there so docile, it made Sam wonder if it was already too late to help it. He tried to open the trap without hurting the wolf anymore but it was shut tight and had no give. As much as he searched, he couldn't find a way to spring it open. His hand slipped into his jacket and he brought out his knife. Leaning over the wolf slightly, he petted its matted and bloody fur. "I'm sorry, I don't think I can get you out. You're suffering and it might be better if..." He wished he had a gun, it would be a far better way to put the wolf out of its misery. His hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger and he told himself it was for the wolf's good, that death was better than it bleeding or starving to death here.

* * *

The noise he’d heard was definitely the sound of footsteps, now coming closer, but it wasn’t his pack. Nor was it the sound of any animal that ran on four legs. Human…

A cold fear settled in the wolf’s stomach in spite of his earlier thoughts. If it was a human that meant his death was fast approaching. He was in pain… agony… but that didn’t mean he _wanted_ to die. He wanted to be free, to go back to his pack, to one day find a mate and have cubs of his own. But none of that was going to happen now. He’d tried to free himself countless times before and hadn’t been able to, he certainly wasn’t going to be able to now.

The wolf whimpered again, this time in fear.

His vision was dark and blurry but he could make out rough shapes still. And when he saw the human it wasn’t a large hunter with a gun as the wolf had been expecting. It was small. It was a boy.

Before the wolf could blink, wondering if he was seeing things, the boy ran towards him and the wolf flinched slightly. A weak growl leaving its throat even though there wasn’t much he could do, even to a child, at this point.

But then the boy was… helping him. Or at least he was trying to. The wolf whimpered louder in pain as the boy tried to open the trap but only managed to shift the steel teeth digging brutally into his flesh, igniting fresh flares of agony through his body. But despite the pain he didn’t try to snap at the boy. It wasn’t his fault. He was trying to help him.

It soon became obvious unfortunately that the child wasn’t strong enough to pull open the massive steel trap. The boy soon gave up and the wolf panted heavily and whimpered softly. He watched the boy, intelligent eyes far too understanding as he watched the child pull out a knife from his pocket.

At this point he was resigned to his fate, and the wolf lifted up enough to gently lick the boy’s fingers holding the knife before he laid his head back down on the ground. He closed his eyes once more, waiting, and hoping the end would come quickly. 

* * *

  
It was an almost 'dry' lick, and that told Sam a lot. The wolf was dehydrated. Not only that, the fact that there was no more growling told him the wolf had given up too. It made sense. It made him sad, especially when the wolf closed its eyes... even if it made what he had to do a little easier.

As he hesitated and stroked the wolf some more, he heard his dad's voice in his head. Snapping orders. Telling him it was the humane thing to do. The right thing. That he needed to man up and just get it over with.

Sam's hand shook as he positioned the knife over the area of the wolf's heart. It wasn't fear or disgust, he'd killed animals for food before when his father had wanted him to have survival skills. It was that he felt sorry for this wolf. It wasn't even fully grown, and it had been caught by some trap and been here in pain for who knew how long. And the way it had looked at him, something had tugged at his heart. Something had spoken to Sam, made him feel for this animal, mad him sad for what had to be done. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, "I'm sorry, I can't do this. I just can't."

Lowering the knife, he sat there for a few minutes and found that the was equally unable to just leave the wolf and go back to the motel. He just couldn't let it die alone. For a good quarter of an hour, Sam just sat there, offering the wolf what comfort he could, petting it and speaking to it. Each time the animal partially opened its eyes, he was glad it was still with him. Yet it was just prolonging the inevitable. This wasn't a good way to go.

That had him thinking. If it was gonna die anyway, maybe dying free was better. Okay, it might be a human thing and not a wolf thing, but Sam was already pulling to his feet and walking around in search of branches he might be able to use to open the trap at least wide enough to get the animals leg out. When he returned, he dropped down next to the trap. "This is gonna hurt, and I'm sorry. Okay boy?"

He kept muttering under his breath as he stuffed branches into the trap next to the animal's leg and tried to use them to force the trap open. Some of the branches snapped. He used other branches, moving them around, grinding his teeth as he tugged on the metal to get it open. The new whimpers from the wolf nearly had him stopping. If he hadn't seen the trap open slightly, if he hadn't created a fourth of an inch opening, he might have given up. But not he found he couldn't.

Stepping on the lower half of the trap, he tried to keep it steady so it would jerk less each time he tried to get it open. And hour later, his face was flushed and he was sweating, but he'd gotten it open a little more. The problem was that the wood he was using kept breaking or else bending and flexing too much. Also, every time he almost got it, he seemed to be hurting the animal more and would lose his concentration. Pulling out his dagger, he slipped it into the trap on top of the branches. Anger and determination gave him a second wind. Grunting as he used both hands to push the handle of the dagger downward so that the other half of the handle and part of the blade pushed up against the top half of the trap, Sam gave it his all, using every bit of his strength. The teeth of the trap separated a little more, then a little more, then just enough. "Move... get away boy... move," he shouted, his hand shaking with the effort of holding the trap open. He would slide the entire thing off the wolf's leg but his own foot was holding the trap to the ground and if he let it go, the trap would shut again. "Come on... free... come on!" He shouted.

* * *

He waited… sure that every heartbeat would be his last. The wolf felt the blade of the knife pressed against his chest and flinched a little in spite of himself. He knew it would hurt. The knife as it went into his chest. It would probably hurt a lot, but he hoped the pain would be brief. There couldn't be much blood left in his body anyway so it shouldn't take long for him to bleed out. Just a brief intense pain that would save him from a longer more agonizing death.

But the stabbing pain never came. Instead an almost whispered apology came. The boy wasn't going to kill him.

The wolf didn't know whether to feel relieved, sad, or simply resigned.

He'd expected the boy to leave then. Leave him to his fate, after all who would want to watch this? But the boy didn't leave. That… comforted him ways he couldn't understand. This human wasn't one of his pack mates but the soft voice and gentle touches soothed him almost the same way. It made him almost forget that he was dying.

A brief spark of panic lit inside of the animal when the boy suddenly got up, afraid that the boy was going to leave him after all. But instead the child started gathering sticks. The wolf watched the boy's every move even though it didn't lift its head. When the boy started wedging the branches into the trap he understood.

Hurt… was an understatement. He barely contained the pained yelps as the steel jaws seemed to only tighten on his leg more as the boy tried to wedge it open. Every time one of the branches snapped the wolf imagined the same thing happening to his leg, the sharp unforgiving jaws of the trap snapping through his bones and taking off his leg completely. The gruesome image made him tremble in fear but he did nothing to try to stop the boy. His pained panting breaths and trembles the only movement he made, small whimpers the only sound he made.

It was a fool's errand but the boy didn't give up, and then miraculously he thought he felt the pressure on his trapped leg ease slightly. Then a little more. The trap slowly opening thanks to a child's determination.

More blood rushed from the savage wounds on his leg as the steel teeth withdrew from his flesh and it almost sent him back into unconsciousness. But he knew it was now or never. He could die trapped or he could die free. Sheer willpower pulled him back from the edge of darkness and he forced his unwilling body to obey him. He couldn't stand. He couldn't even crawl. The wolf could only drag its body a few inches along the leaf covered ground but a few inches were all that was needed.

And he was free.

* * *

"Yes!" Sam shouted as he let go of the trap that slammed shut with a decisive click and snapped some of the twigs in half.

Stabbing the knife into the ground, he crawled to the wolf and saw that it's leg had started to bleed again. Taking his jacket off, Sam grabbed the knife and tore his shirt into a few strips. He wrapped a strip around the wolf's leg and used a small twig to make a tourniquet and stop any more bleeding. Occasionally, he'd check on the wolf and make sure that it was still docile. It seemed to be moving in and out of consciousness or it was too tired from the loss of blood. Sam knew all of this might be for nothing. That in the end, it could turn out that he'd tortured this animal, forced it to bear the pain from his efforts to free it, then made the time it took for death to take its course longer.

"No," he told himself. He was going to save this wolf. He was going to do everything he could to make it happen, make him able to go get back to his family. After stopping the bleeding, Sam made a makeshift splint. The way he had to move the wolf's leg around and get so close to it, maybe it was a good thing that it was nearly out. Otherwise, it was real possible it might decide he was hurting it and bite. Looking at his handiwork, Sam wasn't completely happy but it would have to do.

He spread his jacket on the floor and then did a dangerous thing, one his father would call him all sorts of fool for doing. He put his arms around the wolf and carried him onto the jacket and laid him down. The fleece in the jacket would offer the animal some warmth but that wasn't Sam's purpose. He knew the wolf was dehydrated and might be hungry, and that it would need some care. He had to get it closer to the motel. Petting it once more, he got up. "Okay, you're going to be okay," he assured it. Grabbing the sleeves of the jacket, Sam started pulling on it and dragging the wolf as he walked backwards.

It took a lot of time, moving the wolf. The ground had a lot of tree roots so Sam had to pick paths and take the long way around bumpy ground. It was almost night by the time Sam got the wolf within a five minute walk from the motel. Choosing a sheltered spot under a tree, he ran the rest of the way to the mote. When he got inside, for once, he was glad to see that his dad wasn't back yet. He quickly changed into a new shirt and got a jacket, then headed to the kitchenette and got a container, which he filled with water. Thinking maybe something nutritious might be good, Sam filled a bowl with milk and put some cereal in it. From the fridge, he grabbed some cold cuts and wrapped them up, then headed back out.

When he reached the wolf, it was so dark that the wolf was almost not visible. "Hello boy, Tell me you're hanging in there," he said, setting the water and cereal down. He unwrapped the meats as well and put them next to the wolf. As an incentive, he dipped his finger in the water and brought it to the wolf's mouth, rubbing it across its lips to make sure it knew there was water. "Have a little water, you'll feel better, come on... just a little," he urged, looking back toward the motel, knowing he needed to get his ass back just in case dad did get back.

* * *

The young wolf collapsed once more as soon as it was free of the trap, all of its energy spent it could only lie there motionless as the boy rejoiced. He had no strength left to express his joy at being free from the trap, or even gratitude to the one that had saved him. Right now it was hard enough to keep his eyes open. Even breathing seemed too much of an effort at the moment.

The boy was next to him once more. He heard tearing and rustling sounds but he still didn’t move. Not even when the child began doing things to his leg that was far from comfortable. The wolf couldn’t have mustered up a warning growl even if he wanted to. Besides, at this point he didn’t think that the human was going to harm him. If he was the boy would have surely done so already. What the boy was doing to him now might not feel nice at all but it was still better than the constant crushing pressure on his leg from the trap.

So the wolf merely laid there, its eyes closed. Its twitching ears or a slight muscle tremble the only signs of its discomfort as the boy worked.

Soon the child was done with whatever he was doing and… He was picking him up. The wolf did tense a little then, its ears flattening against its skull as fear shot through him. He was laid down soon after but then the boy was dragging him across the forest floor. Where was the boy taking him? He was happy to be away from the trap, but even as out of it as he was he knew they were heading closer to the human town.

While the wolf had always been fascinated by the animals that walked on two legs he had still feared them as well. His pack had told them how dangerous they were, though the young wolf hadn’t believed all of it. When he’d watched the humans they didn’t seem the violent dangerous things that his pack mates warned him of. Maybe he should have listened more to his pack mates considering all that had happened. That trap was a human’s doing after all and he had heard worse stories of them… but then again it was this human child who had saved him.

He was so confused and it was difficult to think when his thoughts flowed like thick muddy water in his brain. There was nothing he could do if it turned out this human did mean him harm. He could only hope that the boy hadn’t saved him just to do more terrible things to him.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, drifting in and out of consciousness as they moved through the woods, but when they finally stopped and the wolf opened his eyes again it was starting to get dark. Where had the boy brought him? And where was he going? The wolf let out a soft whimper he wasn’t even sure the boy heard before he was disappearing through the dark trees and with no other choice the wolf let its eyes slide closed once again.

Nightfall was fast approaching when he heard the sound of footsteps once more and a weak growl left the wolf’s throat before he smelled the boy. The boy had come back… and the wolf could smell that he’d brought food. If his mouth wasn’t so dry he would have started to salivate. He was so hungry. So thirsty. But he was so tired… He felt the drops of water on the boy’s fingers that brushed against his mouth and his dry tongue darted out to lick them away. It wasn’t enough to sooth his thirst by a long shot, in fact it might have only made it worse, and that was how the wolf found the strength to lift his head enough to drink.

He could only seem to lift his head a few inches off the ground, the angle awkward but after the first few hesitant licks of the cool clear water the wolf began to lap it up greedily. He drank until there was nothing left, and he was licking the bowl. He was disappointed there was no more but then his stomach grumbled reminding him that the boy had brought him food too. He didn’t even sniff at the meats, not caring what they were or if they were rotten, only that they were food. It was more an afterthought after he had already finished them that he realized they were actually quite delicious. Was there more? He smelled more food. It was a little strange, but the wolf didn’t really care because it was both wet and filling. Milk with something strangely crunchy sweet mixed with it. He licked that bowl clean as well.

By the time he’d finished all the food he was quite full and quite exhausted. The wolf laid its head back down on the soft thing the boy had dragged him on. But even as tired and hurting as he was his tail still managed a few weak wags against the leaf covered ground as he gazed up at his savor. 

* * *

Sam held his breath practically until the wolf finally tried the water. Once it started, it didn't stop. The way it lapped every drop of liquid and food up, Sam had to wonder how long it had been trapped. Still, it had him laughing too and he almost imagined that the animal was giving him a reproachful look for having been stingy. "I'll bring more tomorrow, I promise," he said as the wolf's tail thumped. Already it was showing more signs of life though by the amount of blood it had lost, Sam knew there was a real good chance that when he got back in the morning, he might find it hadn't made it through the night.

If he could be sure his dad wouldn't get back tonight either, he'd consider camping out here. But having not received any calls, he thought there was a pretty good chance he and Bobby would show.

"You rest up," he said bending once more, this time to fold a part of the jacket over the wolf. Warily stroking the side of it's face, he got up and backed away a few steps, then turned and headed out of the woods.

When he got to the motel and walked around to the parking lot side, he saw his dad's car pull into the lot. Cursing under his breath, he quickly headed to the vending machine and bought a coke. He might be busted but he wouldn't catch half as much hell for walking to the vending machine as if he were caught away from the motel. Opening the can, he slowly walked toward the door and waited as the men grabbed their bags and headed toward him.

* * *

The wolf blinked sleepily up at the boy. Of course he didn't understand the human words but the sounds the boy made were soft and comforting. As were the gentle touches through his fur.

He was not sure what to think of this human. This boy had been nice to him. He had freed him. Brought him food and water. Saved him. Yet it was because of others like him that he had been hurt and trapped in the first place. His pack had told him how dangerous humans were and now he understood why.

But when the boy stood up and started walking away again the young wolf wasn't relieved like he knew he should have been. He didn't want the boy to leave. He did not want to be alone.

However his soft whimpers didn't stop the boy from leaving, and he was too exhausted to follow. He could only hope this place was safe. It had to be safer than where he'd been trapped, right? With a heavy sigh the wolf buried its nose in the soft thing the boy had wrapped around him. It smelled like the boy and it comforted him as he fell asleep.

***

John Winchester sighed in frustration as he grabbed his bag out from the back of the impala. To say the hunt wasn't going well was an understatement.

He'd found reports of the 'bear' attacks a week ago. Hikers had gone missing in the woods around the town of Maple Falls, Washington. No bodies found yet, but claw marks that suggested an attack by a large predator. If only it was something so simple. John Winchester had recognized the marks immediately and called his long time friend Bobby Singer to back him up. When hunting a Wendigo it was best never to take chances.

Unfortunately even though they'd spent two days so far in the woods trying to track down the creature they'd come up with nothing. No tracks. Nothing. That wasn't all that uncommon with a wendigo, but the damned thing had taken a woman not two miles outside of town just this morning. Its pickings of hikers must have gotten slim with the reports of the 'bear attacks' and now it was hunting closer to the town. One more victim and the thing was going to go back into hibernation and they'd probably never find it.

The hunter's mood certainly didn't improve when he turned around to head to the motel room, looking forward to a night of sleeping in a real bed before he and Bobby headed back out into the woods tomorrow, to find his son standing outside. God damn it. He'd specifically told that boy to stay inside the room! The symbols he and Bobby had drawn on the doors and windows inside the motel room were the only protection against the wendigo and if it was hunting closer to the town now…

"God damn it boy! Just what the hell do you think you're doing!" John just barely stopped himself from shouting loud enough to be heard two states over. His expression was far from pleased.

* * *

  
If his dad's tone had not been warning enough, the look in Bobby's eyes told Sam all he needed to know about his dad's mood. So they hadn't caught the Wendigo. "Nothing. Just got a drink from the machine," he said nodding toward the vending machine as he got the door open for them. He might have added something sarcastic about needing fresh air after three days of being locked up, but right now, he didn't want to antagonize his dad. The sooner he took off in the morning, the sooner Sam could get back to feed the wolf and check on it again. But if he got riled enough, Sam wouldn't put it past his dad to devise a way to be sure Sam didn't get out that door again.

Following the tired men inside, he made a slight face at their pungent smells. The sooner they had showers, the better, not that he was about to mention that either.

Without being told to, Sam went to the small fridge and brought them each a beer. "So what happened," he asked, hoping to take the focus off himself. "The news said there's another missing person." His gaze went from his fathers distinctly cool eyes to Bobby's.

* * *

Bobby turned hearing John’s near shout, and when he saw Sam standing there he gave a soft sigh and shook his head. He knew better than to get involved. Especially when the other man was already in a foul mood. He usually didn’t unless John started to tear Sam a new asshole for no good reason. Sam was John’s boy, after all, it wasn’t any of his business really.

Besides, he knew the other hunter’s anger only stemmed from his fear of something happening to his only son. At least the boy had the decency to look a little bit contrite, rather than back talking to his father as he did more and more lately. He swore when those two really got going it was a bit like World War III. They were just too much alike, even though Sam was only ten years old. Bobby wasn’t really looking forward to the blow ups that were bound to happen between the father and son during the boy’s teenage years.

John’s displeased expression didn’t leave his face at his son’s explanation but at least it dialed down a few notches. Bobby wondered how much that had to do with pure exhaustion. They’d been hiking hard through the woods the past couple of days trying to track the damned wendigo with no luck. He knew John probably partially blamed himself for that girl’s disappearance. Like it had happened right under his nose.

Inside the motel room the two older men dropped their bags by the door. There was no real reason to unpack since they would be heading back out again first thing in the morning. Bobby gratefully sank down on the edge of his bed and gave Sam a slight smile and nod of thanks when the boy brought him a beer. Out of the corner of his eye Bobby saw John do the same before the other man popped the tap and took a long drink from the can.

At Sam’s question Bobby took off his ball cap and ran his fingers though his thinning hair.

"Yup, about two miles out of town. Woman taken right out of her back yard. We checked it out on our way back. Looks like the Wendigo, all right." Bobby replied. Though he wished the boy hadn’t mentioned it, since he could see the anger and worry building up again in John’s eyes.

"Which is the very reason I told you not to leave the room, Sam. If it’s coming this close to town that means it’s desperate. Unless the damned room is on fire, I don’t want you out there. Understand?" John interrupted.

* * *

Hanging his head, Sam bit down on the retort at the tip of his tongue. "Understand," he said, not looking up so his father wouldn't read the truth in his eyes. Now that the man was finally back, something that Sam had been looking forward to, Sam only wondered why he'd even had such hopes. It was pretty clear there weren't going to be any moments of a father pulling a son's cap over his face, or laughter at something Sam said.

He was a pretty quiet kid, but who wouldn't be when everything you said drew either criticism, a heavy sigh or was ignored? You learned to keep your own company, that's what happened. So yeah, pleasant conversation wasn't about to happen. Why he never got that through his thick head, he didn't know.

Finally looking up, he asked, "will you be wanting food? I could look up diners in the area." He knew damn well which one he wanted to go to, the one he'd seen that family at earlier in the day. The food had smelled real good and just the thought of it had his stomach rumbling. he only just now realized he hadn't eaten. Feeling the heavy weight of his father's gaze, he added, "or a drive through. Delivery?" Shit, nothing he said was going to be right tonight, he just knew it.

He looked at Bobby for help, thinking that the man usually did like to grab food someplace. He just hoped they were too tired to cook, course there was always child labor to be used.

* * *

For a few moment’s John’s almost glare at his son did not waver as he tried to determine whether or not Sam was telling him the truth. That the boy would do what he said and remain in the motel room where it was safe, no matter what. He was a little alarmed by just how fast Sam had agreed with him, it seemed lately the boy tried to challenge him on just about everything. But maybe Sam realized just how dangerous it really was out there.

Finally the older man nodded and his expression softened slightly, the hard lines of his face speaking of exhaustion more than anger now. In truth he would have liked nothing better than to grab a hot shower and then call it a night. But when his boy mentioned food and he heard Sam’s stomach growl he looked to Bobby.

The other man looked as exhausted as he was but John knew they’d probably both sleep better, and feel better in the morning, if they took the time to put something in their stomachs tonight. A real meal that didn’t consist of energy bars, beef jerky, and the like they’d packed with them to take while they were in the woods.

"Some grub sounds good, John." Bobby confirmed and John nodded in agreement.

He was too tired to cook right now, or to go out for that matter, but they could have something delivered.

"Sure, I could go for some pizza or something. You want to check the phone book and call in an order, Sammy?" John asked as he stood up, giving his son’s shoulder a slight squeeze as he passed him on the way to the bathroom. "I’m gonna take a shower."

* * *

Surprised by the gesture, Sam turned and watched as his father disappeared into the bathroom. Then he did as he was told, looked through the phone book and ordered up some pizza. He got two large pizzas, the 'heart attack specials,' and a small side salad which he knew he'd probably be the only one to eat. Giving the motel's address, he hung up.

Sitting on the bed and facing Bobby, he asked for some details about the hunt. Hearing how much terrain they'd crossed and getting the blow by blows of their investigation, he imagined their actions. He'd gone on hunts with them or with just his dad before so he knew what it was like. Just not when they'd been up against something as bad as a Wendigo. "Sounds like this one's going to need a trap. Bait," he said. The words reminded him of the wolf. "They don't go after animals, do they? Just people?" he asked, suddenly worried. If his dad weren't around, he'd just go look in his journal but with him here, and Bobby able to see what he was doing, it was probably not a good idea. Still, he had no idea why the book was off limits, it wasn't as if he didn't know about hunting and all that. He sure hated rules that made no sense.

They spoke a little more and then there was a knock on the door. Bobby got all protective looking and Sam rolled his eyes. Typical.

His dad had left his wallet out for him, so he snagged a couple twenties and went to the door. Checking on who it was, he opened it and paid for the pizzas. By the time he had it on the small table and had paper plates out, his dad had come back out. They all sat around the table, grabbing pizza slices. As he'd predicted, Sam was the only one who took some of the salad. "How much longer do you think it will take to get this thing?" he asked, stuffing some of the pizza into his mouth. For once, he was hoping they wouldn't wrap up the case too quickly. Course he didn't want anyone else to get hurt, but he wanted at least a couple of days to see if he could get the wolf back on it's feet, or somewhere safe.

* * *

Bobby was glad that the two Winchesters weren’t going to get into another row, tonight at least. Stubborn ass and Winchester was apparently synonymous and the two of them could literally go all night if they really got to arguing and Bobby was too tired to listen to it tonight. John was a good friend, and Sam was like a nephew to him, but he wasn’t above cracking their skulls together when they needed it. Thankfully it looked like it wouldn’t be needed.

After Sam made the call for pizza the two of them talked and Bobby answered the boy’s questions as best he could without telling him things that he knew John didn’t want the boy to know. Sam was certainly mature for his age, the things his father did and what Sam had to learn to keep himself alive made sure of that. But he was still only ten years old and there were some things a ten year old didn’t need to know no matter how mature they were.

When the boy asked him if a wendigo ever went after animals, Bobby had to wonder at the slight worried look that entered Sam’s eyes. It just seemed like a strange question. He couldn’t figure why Sam seemed more worried about animals getting killed by that thing than people. No, that couldn’t be it. Maybe it was just plain curiosity.

“Far as I know they only hunt humans. Its what sustains them, keeps them immortal.” Bobby replied, but before he could ask Sam why he’d asked their food had arrived and Bobby decided it wasn’t important.

John rejoined them not long after. Bobby grousing that the other man had better have left him some hot water. There wasn’t much talk then during the meal as everyone was too busy stuffing their mouths with pizza. Bobby had to smile a little at Sam eating his salad, he didn’t think he’d ever met a kid that actually enjoyed eating his vegetables.

Sam’s question broke the silence near the end of the meal, and the two hunters shared a look. Given the luck they’d had so far? The thing needed only one more victim to complete its cycle before it went back into hibernation and it would certainly have a lot more luck finding its prey before they found the Wendigo.

“Maybe another week. Hopefully less if Bobby and I can track it or find its lair.” John finally replied. Both hunters knew if they didn’t find the Wendigo or its lair before then they would probably never find it. 

* * *

"Week." Sam nodded and reached for another slice of pizza. Feeling his dad's gaze on him, he wondered if he was expected to kick up a fuss or something. It wasn't like he usually did. All he really argued about was wanting to be able to go to school without the constant having to make up missed times, take tests to catch up, and all that. And he hated being locked in. Okay, and sometimes he hated the kind of places they stayed at, but this motel wasn't bad at all. And he now had something to do, something to take care of. "Hope you catch it," he said, forcing himself to meet his father's gaze without showing any hint of guilt.

His offers of salad were mostly ignored so he went ahead and ate to his heart's content. By the time everyone was done, he was glad to see there were plenty of leftovers. His wolf friend would be happy, especially with all the meat he'd ordered as toppings, though it might not be too happy about the spicy pepperoni. Somehow, he tuned the men out and was thinking about doing a bit of research on fixing up a wolf's leg and what they liked to eat. The next thing he knew, he was alone at the table, Bobby had gone to take his shower, and his dad was in bed, flicking the TV on and giving him an odd look.

Standing up quickly, Sam cleared up his plate and put the leftovers away. "There's not much. Reception's not good," he told his dad. Cable was extra and apparently his dad hadn't ordered any. Getting himself a glass of water, he put one on the nightstand next to his dad too. A subtle hint for the older man.

Then Sam went ahead and opened the couch up, converting it into his bed. He wasn't tired yet, and he was pretty sure he'd be the last one up. Then he'd have to listen to both men snoring. Seriously, he should tape it sometime and play it for them. Course his dad would just tell him to wear ear plugs or something. "Seven, eleven and thirteen work best. Or sports... thirty eight."

* * *

As John watched his son still sitting at the table when everyone else was done with the meal he began to wonder if the boy might be coming down with something. Not that he was complaining about the lack of questions or arguments he was getting from the boy but something just seemed off about Sam’s behavior tonight.

It just wasn’t like his boy to be so quiet and lost in his own thoughts, at least, not when John had been gone for several days. The boy was usually quite a chatterbox and never hesitated in speaking his mind. He was like his mother in that regard. But right now Sam seemed completely lost in his own thoughts and almost subdued.

It worried the older man for more than one reason. If Sam was falling ill there was no way John could stay and take care of the boy. He couldn’t let Bobby go wandering in the woods after a fucking Wendigo alone, after all. And they couldn’t just ignore the damned thing either.

John almost asked his son if he was feeling all right, but then decided against it. Sam would tell him if something were wrong surely. Maybe it was just his own tiredness making him think something was wrong when there wasn’t.

A small smile tugged at the corners of John’s mouth when Sam set a glass of water down on the table beside him. The boy was always trying to make him eat better, and while sometimes it was annoying at least it showed that his boy did care about him. Despite all their arguments and not seeing eye to eye on practically anything.

John grunted a small thanks to the boy, eventually flicking the television to the sports channel. The reception was pretty bad, but at least it was only a little fuzzy rather than the complete snow of most of the channels. He finished his beer then even took a few sips from the water glass Sam had left out for him.

The shower eventually shut off and Bobby returned to the main room to settle in his own bed. They watched the basketball game on the television for about an hour, the two men occasionally making comments about the teams playing. When the game was over, though it was still somewhat early, by mutual agreement John shut off the television and the two hunters decided to hit the sack.

“Night, Sammy.” John offered the boy before the lights went out. 

* * *

Staring at the ceiling in the dark didn't get Sam anywhere fast. Sleep would have been ideal but it was still early, and when he had no school to get up for, he'd stay up late every night, which made it even harder for him to fall asleep. On top of that, the two men had started to snore in no time, so now he was counting snores ... not that it helped any.

Eventually, he slipped out of bed and grabbed a flashlight and book. Then he did what he'd done for years, read under the covers, until sleep claimed him.

*

It felt like he'd just fallen asleep when he was awakened by sounds from all around him. Groaning, he pulled the covers off his head and saw his dad and Bobby restocking their duffel bags and getting ready. His dad gruffly told him breakfast was on the table and then continued to pack.

Sam got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. As he took a piss, he remembered the wolf in the woods. Had it survived the night? Suddenly, he wanted the men to take off so he could go see.

When he went back in and got to the table, he saw a big breakfast burrito for him. Turning to look at his dad, he saw that there was a half eaten one next to him, so he was eating on the go. In the kitchenette area, he could see a new box of cereal and some canned food. There was also a twelve pack of coke that had him turning to look at his dad again. Yeah, that was his dad's subtle way of telling him he now had no reason to walk out the door. Sensing the older man's attention was on him, Sam quickly looked down and started to eat.

He wasn't finished eating when Bobby headed to the door and told him to watch himself. Sam got up and pulling some jeans on, grabbed on of his dad's bags and followed his dad to the door. Before he could get through it, his father's big body was barring his way. Sam looked up with a question in his eyes, but the stern look in his dad's face deflated him. "Just helping you to the car, he muttered," really not knowing why he tried.

* * *

The alarm clock had been set to wake the two hunters at five thirty in the morning. Bobby had predictably grumbled several choice obscenities at him like an old grizzly bear when the alarm started buzzing that early. Not that John could really blame him, it wasn’t as if he liked getting up at the ass crack of dawn. But years in the Marines had trained John Winchester to rise when needed no matter how bone tired he was.

Rolling his eyes John set the snooze when the other man threatened to shoot the alarm clock, or him, if he didn’t give him at least fifteen more minutes. Not that John really cared, since it let him use the bathroom and shower first before all the hot water was gone.

He glanced at Sam’s bed on his way to the bathroom but the lump under the covers didn’t even stir. The boy could sleep through a war.

The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon when John emerged from the bathroom, freshly scrubbed, teeth brushed, and mostly dressed. Bobby was up, still grumbling, but the other man would be doing that until he got a good dose of caffeine in him.

John grabbed his keys and put on his boots before heading out to get them all some breakfast, and some extra supplies to hold Sam over for when they were gone. By the time he returned Bobby was ready and already starting to pack his bag to go. John left the food on the counter and Sam’s breakfast on the table. He started packing between taking bites of his own breakfast and was almost finished when Sam finally started to stir.

Good, that saved him from having to wake the boy before he left.

“Breakfast is on the table, Sammy.” He informed his son. It wasn’t long after that the two hunters got their shit together and all that was left was to load the car. John hadn’t been expecting Sam to suddenly throw on some jeans, grab a bag, and head for the door. Just where the hell did that boy think he was going?

John stood in the doorway, giving his son a hard look, that softened only a little at Sam’s explanation. He took the bag from his son with a sigh and shook his head.

“We’ve got it, Kiddo. You should finish your breakfast before it gets cold. We’ll be back in a couple days. If anything goes wrong, you call Pastor Jim. And stay in this room no matter what, understand?”

* * *

"Yes Sir." Or should that be _Ay, ay, Captain?_ Forcing himself to look at his dad, Sam gave a half hearted smile. "Good luck." He closed and locked the door after his dad and resisted the temptation to go to the window and watch until he took off and was no longer visible. He used to do that all the time, back when he was a kid. Now he knew that wishing was for idiots cause wishes never came true. They just ate you up on the inside and made you unhappier. He was done wishing. He was also done with listening. From now on, he'd do what his heart told him, and right now, it told him to go help that wolf.

He scurried around collecting food to take to it. Bobby hadn't eaten all of his second breakfast burrito, so Sam grabbed that too. Looking inside the fridge, he saw some hamburger patties his dad had picked up and quickly took half of them. He'd bet that was more up the wolf's alley than cereal, though Sam got some of that as well. And water.

Though he was ready, he let an hour pass before he opened the door of the motel room and walked out. It had still been dark earlier, though that wasn't really his main reason for waiting around. Sometimes his dad forgot something and would come back and it would just be his luck if that happened today, so he wanted to be sure that the hunters were too far to turn around and then find the motel room empty. Course his dad could phone and he'd be pissed if Sam didn't pick up the phone, but unless it was an emergency, Sam didn't see that happening.

As he rounded the motel and headed into the woods, he pulled his jacket tighter around his body. It was freezing cold. Every breath that left him misted and he felt his cheeks burn from the wind. It would be just his luck if it started raining.

He picked his way through the trees, recalling all the landmarks he'd told himself to remember. Then he found himself in the clearing, looking at the dark lump laying motionless on the ground.

"Don't be dead," he whispered, moving closer. "Hey boy, I brought you some food. You're hungry aren't you?" His gaze went to the bandaging on the wolf's leg and he saw a little blood had seeped through it. "I've got meat," he added, like the wolf would understand and be tempted.

* * *

With night came the cold. Not cold enough for snow, but cold enough for a frost to form on the leaf covered ground through the night. It would be this way until the leaves began to bud on the trees, but the soft thing the boy had wrapped around him kept the worst of the chill off him. While it wasn’t as nice as the den he shared with his family, the wolf had slept deeply, wrapped in warmth and comfort. It was the first real sleep he’d gotten since he’d been trapped.

As exhausted as he was the wolf probably would have slept well into the morning if the sound of footsteps hadn’t woken him from his much needed rest. Green eyes blinked open blearily, his ears flicking towards the sound before they flattened back against his head.

Not a four legged creature. A human.

A low growl began in the wolf’s throat as the footsteps drew closer. He knew he was very close to the human town now and it wasn’t a place he wanted to be right now. He was fearful of what a human might do to him if they found him and he could not even run away.

Then the wind brought the human’s scent to him and his growl all but died away. Of course he recognized the scent, he had been all but wrapped in the boy’s scent all night long. The boy had freed him from the trap, given him food and water… but he had been too trusting of humans already and that was the reason he’d become trapped in the first place.

As the boy came through the trees, the hair on the back of the wolf’s neck stood on end and his eyes followed the human’s movements warily. He growled softly again, even though the boy moved slowly and the sounds he made were gentle he wasn’t sure what to make of this human. But then the wolf caught another scent. Meat. Food. The boy had brought him food again.

The wolf’s ears perked up then and the fearful growl ceased as he licked his lips. 

* * *

Hearing the growl, Sam stopped and watched the wolf for a moment. He was glad to hear it, it meant the animal was still alive. Still, he knew he'd have to be more cautious today, if it was feeling any better, it might be more aggressive.

"It's alright boy... Wolverine. Yeah, that's right, that's you," he said, watching the wolf lick its chops. It was staring at the bags in his hand, so Sam knew that the wolf knew he'd brought food. "So that's how it is, huh. It's all about the food." Approaching a little closer, he thought he saw its tail wag, and grinned. "Okay, water first." He'd brought a bottle of it. Setting down one of the plastic containers he had, he filled it up and pushed it toward the wolf with his foot. He didn't think the wolf had liked the milk, though it had lapped it all up, so this time he'd skipped bringing that.

He opened up all of the other food he'd brought and gave a laugh when the wolf's head lifted the moment he opened up the hamburger patties. "Alright, I get it, you're a carnivore too, but I warn you, I force salad on everyone." He'd, in fact, brought the left over salad from the night before. Pushing the containers over, he slowly moved closer. "So, you gonna bite me if I try to pet you?" He looked at the bandaging which seemed to have held. "At least you're smart, you didn't rip it off," he said.

When the wolf didn't growl again, he bent down and stroked the fur on its head. "Good boy, Wolverine. Go ahead and eat," he said, not that the animal needed an invitation. You'd think he hadn't fed it last night.

* * *

The wolf watched as the boy approached him with a mixture of wariness and anticipation. He knew the boy had food, he could smell it, and he was very hungry. He wanted the food very much but he wasn’t sure if he should trust this human. What if the boy tried to hurt him? He remembered all too well the knife the boy had pressed against his chest. He remembered all too well wishing the boy would use it…

But he hadn’t. If the boy had wanted to hurt him, kill him, he could have done it easily when he’d still been trapped. Or the boy could have simply left him to die. Instead, the boy had freed him from the trap, brought him food, and given him something soft to sleep on. If the boy brought him food again, surely that meant he didn’t want to hurt him… right?

He wished he understood humans better. All the times he’d watched them he still knew so little about them. They were such strange creatures.

The wolf watched as the boy took things out of the bag and poured water into a plastic container. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he saw and smelled the cool clear water. The wolf started lapping it up greedily as soon as it was pushed within his reach.

However the water was forgotten when he heard the crinkle of plastic and smelled the meat. He lifted his head and licked his lips as he watched the boy approach him with the meat, his tail wagging a little unconsciously. He started eating as soon as the boy pushed the container of meat in front of him. It was delicious.

He barely noticed when the boy moved closer. Only paused briefly in his meal when he felt the light stroke of the boy’s fingers over his head. It wasn’t a bad feeling however and his ear only flicked a little at the strange sensation before he went back to chewing. All too soon the meat was gone and he was left licking an empty bowl.

The wolf sniffed lightly at the other container but it only contained plants. Blah. So he ignored it to drink a bit more water before lifting his head to stare at the boy. Maybe he had more food he didn’t know about?

* * *

"Hello... beggars can't be choosers," Sam huffed, seeing the wolf turn its nose up at the rest of the food he'd brought. He reached for the plastic and drew it closer to the wolf, motioning toward it. "Come on, eat it up. Or you'll be hungry. Not like I have a whole lot of meat or money to buy more." When the wolf seemed to reject his suggestion, he rolled his eyes and figured if it got hungry enough later, it would eat everything he'd brought.

A little warily, he sat down on the pile of leaves next to the wolf and once again reached out to pet it. "You look a lot better today, more alert. So maybe you're gonna be okay, hmm?" He grinned at the sight of the wolf's tale thumping loudly. "I dunno, maybe instead of Wolverine, I should be calling you something like... pussycat?" It didn't bother him that there was no one around to share or understand his joke. Hell, at least there was _something_ to hear him speaking. If dad had his way, Sam would be in the hotel room completely alone, like he had been for days until he got fed up with it.

Leaning his head back against the tree trunk, he babbled on. Wolverine didn't seem to mind and Sam had nothing better to do anyway. He'd pleaded with his dad to let him have a puppy, and his dad had been completely against the idea. After he'd brought it up a couple of times, pleading had turned into an all out shouting match, with him accusing his dad of not caring, or not letting him ever have anything he really wanted. Deep down, maybe he got that an animal would make things harder, like when they wanted to stay at motels that wouldn't allow pets, or at houses they rented. Then there was the fact he'd have to walk the dog, even when he was ordered to stay behind locked doors. Sure, he didn't think that was a problem, but his dad did.

Turning to look at the wolf, he gave a half smile. "Sure wish you were a little thing. You know, like I could sneak you inside and get you past dad... take you with me. Yeah, I know, even if you were a small puppy, it'd never work. Besides, why would you even want to come along. Bet you have a nice family waiting on you, huh? They're probably worried. But you'll get better soon, you'll see," he said in reassuring tones, his hand accidentally slipping down the side of the wolf's face to its mouth.

* * *

The wolf looked down at the plastic container when the boy pushed it closer to him. He sniffed it again. Yep, still leaves. What was he supposed to do with leaves? The only thing leaves were good for were peeing on. Didn’t the boy have any nice deer for him to eat? He loved deer. Or rabbit. That was his favorite. The wolf looked at the boy again and whined softly, he was still hungry, but it didn’t seem like the boy had any more food.

He watched the boy sit down next to him, his ears flicking forward at the sounds the boy was making. They weren’t bad sounds but they were strange sounds all the same. He couldn’t even begin to understand them. After a while he decided he liked the sounds even if he couldn’t understand them. Just like he liked the feeling of the boy’s fingers in his fur. It felt nice and he found himself leaning his head into the gentle touches more and more.

When the boy’s fingers dropped down the side of his face to his mouth he started to sniff at them, pushing his nose into the palm of the boy’s hand. 

* * *

Sam's heart tumbled. He almost snatched his hand back when Wolverine nudged his nose against his palm. "No signs of teeth... that's good, that's a good boy," he started to laugh when the wolf's wet nose got his palm all slippery and had him making a face. "Okay... okay, I like you too." He spent another hour there, and then took off, promising to bring more food and water. He also ordered the wolf to eat the greens, then headed off, turning when he heard the wolf's whining. "Rest. I'll be back," he promised again.

*

Three days later, Sam emerged from the large trash bin behind a butcher's shop, with a bag full of win. Okay, maybe he didn't smell so good, or he was imagining the smell of the trash and butcher's byproducts clinging to him, but he wished he'd thought of this before. Wolverine had scarfed up all of the meat in the fridge, the hamburger patties, the hot dogs, the cold cuts, everything his dad had brought. Sam had used up most of the money and hadn't been sure how he would keep up with scrounging food for the wolf. Well, if it had come down to it, he might have had to maybe steal or something, not that it was an option he wanted to take, but he'd grown attached to the wolf over the last couple of days. He'd taken to dressing warmly and then hanging out with it for a couple hours in the morning and then again in the late afternoon, taking a book to read or just talking out loud to it. Yesterday, he'd been reading with one hand in the animal's fur, petting it, when it suddenly moved and put its head into his lap. Best moment ever!

Yeah, he knew his dad would call him all sorts of idiot for taking a risk with a wild animal. Hell, forget the animal, he'd catch it for being out of the motel room. The thought of getting caught had him wincing. He wasn't sure if getting yelled at would be the only punishment he was risking. And the more days that passed by, the greater the risk that dad and Bobby would finish the hunt and be back. Shrugging those thoughts off, he made his way back to the motel and then into the woods behind it.

*

"Hey, Wolverine?" He'd reached the clearing and saw his jacket on the ground, next to the tree, but no wolf. He called it's name out again as he put out the water he'd brought and unwrapped some of the food, and the scraps from the butcher's shop, including a huge bone with some meat on it.

He didn't hear a sound but was startled when the wolf came up from behind and nudged him away with it's nose. "Okay, alright, jeez... here you go," he said, getting out of the way so the wolf could get to the food. It had him laughing and shaking his head. Plus, though he'd seen Wolverine get up and stand, this was the first time he'd seen him move around, really walk away. It meant the wolf was really healing. A part of him knew that it meant that the next time he came, the wolf might be gone. He wished there was a way to tell it that he'd really hate for that to happen. That he'd like some sort of 'goodbye' first. Yeah, he was being an idiot.

Sitting down on the ground, he leaned against the tree and watched. "You really like that, don't you? I'll get you some more tonight," he promised.

* * *

He was healing quickly. Every day his leg felt better. The pain was less and he was stronger. It was just one of the ways he and his family were different from other wolves. Besides being faster, stronger, and smarter they healed quicker. Of course he never would have recovered this much if not for the boy who was taking care of him.

Today he’d managed to walk for the first time in days. Even though he had to favor his wounded leg a lot he’d still managed to take a few limping steps around the clearing and surrounding area. He wasn’t strong enough yet to return to his family, but a few more days and he would be. Until then he’d taken advantage of his new mobility to mark a few trees and dig some mice out of their burrow. It had been a nice treat.

Not that the boy hadn’t been feeding him well, in fact he came every day with meat for him. The wolf had enjoyed everything the boy brought him to eat, well except for the strange leaves, but the boy didn’t bring him any of that again after the wolf had turned over the container with his nose.

Sniffing around, looking for another bush to mark, the wolf realized he was going to miss seeing the boy once he returned to his family. It wasn’t just because the boy brought him food. He liked it when the boy sat and talked to him and he liked it when the boy pet him. He’d learned pretty quickly that ‘Wolverine’ was him. The wolf found it funny, such a strange name, but he liked it too. His ears always perked up and his tail started wagging whenever he saw the boy coming, whether he had food with him or not. The wolf never thought he would have a human friend. He was sad whenever the boy got up to leave, and as much as he wanted to return to his pack… he didn’t want to leave the boy behind.

He heard his name and lifted his head, his tail already starting to wag as he trotted slowly back towards the clearing. He could smell the meat even before he got to the clearing and his mouth started to water. The boy had brought a lot for him this time. The wolf licked his lips.

When he got back to the clearing he noticed that the boy smelled a little funny too, but he would sniff him later once he’d finished eating. He was hungry. Alright, he was always hungry, but still there was food to be eaten. So the wolf didn’t even really wait for the boy to finish unwrapping it all before he came up behind the boy and started munching away at the scraps. How delicious! He even tasted some deer and rabbit amongst the scraps of meat. His favorite.

The wolf looked up at the boy when he spoke and wagged his tail, licking his lips, before returning to his meal. After eating all of the meat he felt pleasantly full. The bone was very tasty too, it looked like it had a lot of delicious marrow inside it, he’d chew on it later when he was bored.

Finished with his breakfast the wolf turned to the boy and started sniffing at his shoes. They smelled a little like meat, but also other things that he couldn’t really identify. How strange. His sniffing moved up the boy’s jeans. He was particularly interested in one strange dark spot by the boy’s knee. He licked at the spot, made a face. His tongue was tingling. The wolf sneezed and sneezed again. Ok, he didn’t like the taste of that at all. 

* * *

"Oh, now that you've had the good stuff, I don't look so delicious, huh?" Sam laughed at the sneezing wolf, then kicked the bone away as a joke. Really, if he'd been thinking, he wouldn't have done that. Only an idiot would pull food out of a wolf's mouth, or grab it.

When Wolverine just went after it and brought it back, he was really surprised. "You want to play catch? How about with something other than a smelly slobbery bone," he said, making a face and looking around. He found a nice sized stick and threw that over the wolf's head, shouting "fetch." Very soon, they made a game of it, with Sam throwing farther and farther. The wolf was real smart, something he hadn't known about wolves.

At one point, when he was teasing by holding the stick and only pretending to throw, Wolverine jumped up and grabbed one end. They tugged and fought over it, and somehow Sam found himself on the ground wrestling with the wolf. "Mine, mine," he was shouting, trying to keep the stick from the wolf as they rolled around. He was trying to toss it, but the wolf wasn't giving him any openings and was hanging on. Both of them were stubborn, and he was laughing out loud, and sometimes complaining about the drool on the stick.

By the time it was time for him to get going, Sam had had a nice work out. He stood up and brushed the leaves and dirt off his clothes. He faked complete lack of interest in the stick until the wolf stepped away from it, then he grabbed it and tossed it, giving a whoop of victory. When Wolverine brought it back, he patted his head and promised to come back with more goodies. "See you later boy," he promised, and walked away, looking over his shoulder at the wolf that was still looking at him.

* * *

The tingling on his tongue hadn’t really faded but at least he wasn’t sneezing anymore. Whatever that was he definitely didn’t want any more of that. Why would the boy want to roll around in something like that? Rolling around in a smelly rabbit was sometimes fun, even if his mother made him bathe soon afterward. But the wolf couldn’t understand the appeal of rolling in something that made your tongue tingle and your nose sneeze.

Then the boy kicked at his bone and the young wolf ear’s perked up. Did the boy want to play? He hadn’t played in such a long time. Chase was his favorite game but he knew he couldn’t do that yet. But keep away was a close second.

He quickly trotted to retrieve the bone, but the boy didn’t follow him trying to get it back from him. A little confused, the wolf brought the bone back and when the boy picked up a stick and threw it again he quickly understood. It was a strange game, but he liked it. It was even more fun when the boy held onto the stick and tried to keep it away from him and they played a nice game of tug of war instead which quickly escalated into a wrestling match.

Playing with the boy was different than playing with his pack mates, but the wolf hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Even though he was very tired when they were finally done, he still didn’t want it to end. He was very sad when the boy got up and started walking away, leaving again.

The wolf whined softly but as much as he wanted to follow after the boy he didn’t. The boy was heading back towards the human town and the wolf knew he couldn’t go there. His ears and tail drooping he dropped the stick and picked up the bone instead, going over to the soft bed he’d been sleeping in and laying down, but he wasn’t really interested in chewing right now. He whined again and closed his eyes. 

* * *

Sam was quite close to the motel when he heard something woosh through the air. He looked behind and saw nothing, but heard the sound again, this time seemingly coming from the trees. All of his dads warnings and threats came to him as he started to walk faster, weaving between the trees, trying to be aware of his surrounds, every noise and every movement. His heart started to beat faster when the sound came again, and actually felt the wind rush as something seemed to fly over him. He told himself it was impossible, it couldn't be the Wendigo. No way, that would be too big a coincidence.

And. Yet. His father's words echoed over and over in his head. He remembered dad saying something about them being vengeful too. Maybe it knew his dad was hunting it and was returning the favor?

No, no, he had to get these creepy thoughts out of his head and just get to the motel. Taking a deep breath, he started to run. Whatever it was that was after him, he didn't want to face it. And if it was the Wendigo, then the dagger he had wasn't going to help him.

Lengthening his strides, he felt his thighs burn with the strain of his efforts. The sound of his heart beats and increasingly quick breaths echoed in his head. It was weird. He wanted to make it, wanted to hope he would, but deep down, he knew it was over already.

Seconds later, something knocked him over and before he hit the ground, lifted him off it. He shouted, calling for help and struggling to get free, tree branches slapping him in the face. And then the blackness swallowed him and he was at peace.

* * *

The young wolf woke with a start. Bright green eyes scanned the clearing, his ears turning this way and that trying to catch the sound that had woken him. Maybe it was just a dream, a bad dream, but he swore he’d heard… his boy… and he’d sounded frightened. The fur on the back of his neck bristled.

Should he follow the boy? But that would lead him even closer to the town and he was already uncomfortably close. What if it wasn’t a dream? What if the boy was in trouble?

That thought pushed the wolf to his feet and he trotted as quickly as he was able in the direction he'd seen the boy travel. He was able to follow the boy’s scent easily. The boy had traveled this way many times and the scent was fresh.

But then the wolf began to smell… another scent. It smelled like death, the worst kind of decay. He’d only smelled it a few times, it was usually an old scent when he had, but he knew what it was. It was neither beast nor man, and far more dangerous than both. His pack stayed far away from this creature. Now the scent was fresh. As fresh as the boy’s.

It was following the boy…

The wolf began to move faster, in fact, almost at a run in spite of how his leg protested. It wasn’t long before he came upon the spot where the two scents joined… and stopped. There was another scent too. The scent of blood. The wolf whined, fearful of what might have happened to his boy. He began to sniff around again, desperately trying to pick up where the trail went. He realized the creature had taken to the trees… with the boy. It would be more difficult to follow but he knew he could. He knew the direction the creature was heading. Back to its den.

He started to follow the creature but stopped. Even if he followed the creature all the way back to its lair what would he do? He could not fight it. He was alone, he was not even full-grown, and he was injured. He could not face the creature alone… he had to find his pack. They would not want to help a human but this was different. This was _his_ human. They _had_ to help… and if they didn’t, then he would go alone.

The wolf started to run deeper into the forest, hoping desperately he would find his family in time. 

* * *

The place was dark and dank. The smell of blood, both fresh and old, permeated the air. And there was another scent. Sam had to think a moment before he realized it was urine. He looked up. By the little bit of light that seemed to get inside what seemed like a cave system, he could see the ropes that were bound tight around his wrists and knotted over some sort of hook. His head hurt when he tried to remember what happened.

That's when he heard the sounds of moaning and knew he wasn't alone. Lifting his legs, he pushed against the wall of the cave, twisting his body around and glimpsing a horrific scene. Others hanging by their arms, and below them, on the ground, piles of bones. Human.

_Wendigo._

All of his dad's warnings slammed into him. All of them useless now. He'd gone and gotten caught. Just as he started to try to talk himself into calmness, he heard heavy footsteps approach. The collective sounds of fear sent fear into his own heart.

He heard a low animalistic sound. The screams for help.

"No... no please no... i'll.... help .... AAAaaaaagh...."

Sam kicked against the wall again and twisted. The sight of the tall lanky creature with a human arm in his and and riping into the flesh of its arm with long, sharp teeth, sent ice traveling through his veins. The victim's screams had him pissed off, wanting desperately to help her, afraid and imagining what it would be like when it was his turn to be devoured. He was also ashamed, ashamed he'd stopped shouting, just like the others. No one wanted to attract the attention of that thing, so instead, there were quiet sniffles, soft cries and some whispered prayers.

His mind echoed with silent calls for his father. Whether it was a prayer or not, he didn't know.

And then the screaming stopped. A few bones hit the ground, and the creature left the room.

The sound of crying increased.

"How many... how many people here?" Sam asked, struggling against the ropes. "Anyone here who can get free? Or has an arm free? I got a knife, but it's in my boot." The other one that he'd had out had dropped to the ground when he'd fallen unconscious out in the woods.

* * *

It had all it needed now.

Once it finished devouring them it would sleep again.

The last one. The one it had found wandering in the woods today. It would be a special treat. That one smelled of the others. The men that dared to hunt it. Perhaps once it had finished picking the bones clean it would leave them in the woods for the others to find.

A warning.

The others would never find this place. It was too well hidden. It had lived here for centuries. It would live here for centuries more. It had nothing to fear from the others.

It savored its meal. Savored the screams of the woman as it savored her flesh. It would finish them all tonight. Soon it would be time to sleep again.

It was quiet in the cave as it finished its meal. Only the softest whimpers and terrified sobs from the others. But before it started on the next one… it heard something. Not inside but outside.

Nothing came here. Not animal. Not man. No man could find this place.

It made its way through the twisting tunnels of the cave to the outside. Another sound. Louder now. Close. A howl.

* * *

One by one, the others gave their dejected answers. The Wendigo was extremely efficient and had tied them up too well. Sam refused to give up and kept fighting the rope, trying to make it rub across the hook or whatever it was attached to. When that seemed to go nowhere, he used his legs, trying to climb up the stone wall, raise his body and pull off the hook. A sound erupted from him as he strained harder, but he stopped suddenly and listened.

He wasn't the only one who heard the howling, the others started to whimper. "It's not the creature, is it?" he asked. He'd only heard the low animalistic sounds from the Wendigo, nothing like these howls. "What?" He started to try to climb again, working harder, pulling on his arms to get his legs up higher on the wall, then finding a toehold to keep his body up while he tried to get the rope to slip off the hook.

Again and again, he tried. His arms hurt, his muscles burned. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, but he wouldn't give up. The howling grew louder and reminded him of Wolverine' sounds, but if there was a pack of wolves around, it meant they just might turn into wolf food, trapped as they were. Motivated, he worked harder and finally... finally slipped the rope off the hook and fell on the hard ground, barely biting back a shout as his shoulder came out of its socket and blinding pain washed over him.

The calls from the others to get his knife had him almost in tears. "My arm..."

* * *

The young wolf had run hard. His wounded leg had given out several times from the strain he was putting on it. The pain sending him sprawling into the undergrowth, but he’d gotten up again every single time. No matter how much it hurt. Pushing himself even harder. He refused to give up. He had to find his family. He had to help his boy.

Luckily he hadn’t needed to travel all the way back to his home to find his pack. They’d been looking for _him_. All this time trying to find him. His family was overjoyed to see him. To know he was alive even if he was injured and in pain now. The young wolf was happy to see them as well, but he did not have time for a reunion or their concern over his injury now.

They did not understand his urgency, his fear, at first. Just as he had feared they did not wish to help the boy. What was he to them? The creature did not bother them as long as they stayed away from its resting place. They did not concern themselves with the troubles of humans. He tried to explain, how the boy had helped _him_ , saved his life, given him food and shelter. He would be dead now if it wasn’t for the boy. They were wasting time!

His father, the alpha of their pack, forbade him to go after the boy. The young wolf refused to listen, growling, whimpering, begging, challenging the older wolf. His father was furious of course. No one challenged him. But then suddenly his mother was standing beside him, and his father relented to his pleas. The young could have collapsed in exhaustion and relief but he couldn’t. Not now. He refused to stay behind. Only he knew his boy’s scent. Only he could find him.

He ran with his pack. He kept up no matter how much it hurt. They howled into the night. On the hunt. They found the creature’s trail. They tracked it back to its den. They found the creature already outside its lair. Waiting for them. It roared in anger for violating its territory. His father growled back a vicious challenge.

It was large. It was strong. It was fast. But so was his pack and they were many while it was one. His pack attacked as one. The creature slashed at them with its claws. They dodged and snapped at it with powerful jaws, driving it away from the cave. As much as he wanted to he did not join his pack to fight. Instead slipping past the creature unnoticed in the fray and into the caves. He could smell his boy. He tracked him easily through the twisting passages. Finally he found him.

Whimpering with relief and joy he ran to the boy and began nuzzling and licking his face. 

* * *

Sam squealed at the first few wet licks he got, scaring the others who thought he was being bitten. Then he started laughing and tried to roll to one side. "Wolverine, hey boy... you came. It's alright guys, it's just my wolf. He's not dangerous," It was like the wolf's presence brought new life into him. Sam managed to sit, groaning as he reached with his hands still tied together, for the knife in his boot. "Fu...." His eyes widened when he couldn't find it. Had that thing taken it from him.

"Help... free us."

"Get me out of here. Kid-"

"Help."

Sam felt the wall, trying to look for a sharply angled part of stone to rub the ropes over, but there was nothing. "I..." He got up, almost tripping over wolverine who wove in between his legs. "I'll be back, I swear. I'll get my dad, we'll get you all free."

As he stumbled out of the room, the cries and pleas almost got to him. But he didn't know what happened to the Wendigo, and when it would be back. He'd heard the howls though, so maybe other wolves had come with Wolverine and were leading the monster on a chase. That meant Sam had to get home, call his father, and hope to hell he was nearby, that he'd get to this cave fast enough, before the Wendigo got back.

"Come on... you're gonna have to lead me back," Sam said, stumbling. "How do we get out of here, huh boy?" It was hard to see Wolverine in the dark, but the wolf kept coming back for him, and he kept promising that he was following. Eventually, they were outside in the woods. Sam dropped to his knees and once again, the wolf was licking him. "Half way there. But you gotta lead me home, back... you gotta," he said, trying to find the energy to get up and make it all the way back.

* * *

The young wolf’s tail wagged furiously with joy that his boy was not dead. He was hurt, in pain, but alive. That was all that mattered right now. He continued to lick and nuzzle at the boy’s face until the boy got to his feet. The wolf stayed close, even though he was hurting too, offering what support he could in case the boy stumbled and fell.

He could hear the other humans still in the cave, their begging, but he didn’t care much about them. He only cared that _his_ boy would be safe. So when the boy indicated he was ready to leave the wolf started back the way he came through the twisting caverns. When the boy slowed down or seemed to be having trouble, the wolf went back to him, nuzzling and urging him on. It wasn’t far now.

Finally they were outside, the fresh air a welcome change from inside the cave that smelled of nothing but death and decay. When the boy suddenly dropped to his knees however the wolf went back to his side, nuzzling at his face and whimpering worriedly. They had to keep going…

The snap of a branch and rustling of leaves had the wolf turning his head and growling, standing protectively in front of his boy. But it was only his father and pack that emerged from the bushes and the young wolf relaxed. His father had a long slash along his ribs and his muzzle was bloody. Many of his other pack mates had injuries as well but they seemed only superficial scratches and the young wolf was grateful for that. His pack had killed the creature. Ripped it apart. His boy would be safe now.

Before the young wolf could even begin to dwell on that joy however his father charged at him, forcing him away from the boy, snapping and growling, and the young wolf had no choice but to retreat. The young wolf whimpered plaintively trying to edge around his father to return to the boy’s side but his father only forced him back farther. His father biting him hard enough to draw blood when the young wolf tried to challenge him. The young wolf whimpered in pain and backed away from his father, his head hung low in submission and his tail between his legs. It was a fight he could not win. His father was more than twice his size and not even his mother stood in his defense this time.

He wanted to go with the boy, take him back to the town, make sure the boy got there safely, but his pack would not allow it. The young wolf knew he should be thankful that they had at least saved the boy’s life, but all he felt was devastated, knowing he would never see the boy again.

His father took the lead and he was forced to follow. His pack snapping at him and herding him along whenever he stopped to look back at the boy. The wolves soon disappeared into the darkness of the woods, leaving Sam to his fate. 

* * *

"Wolverine?" Seeing the other wolves, Sam shrank back. But when one of them, the largest one, charged his wolf, he shouted. "No, get away from him, No. No!" He grabbed some pebbles off the ground and threw them at the wolf, but it didn't even notice. It took Sam a few minutes to realize the two wolves weren't actually fighting. The big one was just separating Wolverine from him, sheparding him away.

Hearing his wolf whimper with pain, Sam waved at him. "Go. Don't fight them. Just go... go," he insisted, his eyes stinging with tears when Wolverine actually left. "Bye..."

Alright, he didn't know what had happened to the Wendigo, other than the wolves had clearly fought it. That meant he had to get his dad fast, just in case. Groaning with pain, he used his good arm to push up, and started to walk. He had no idea where he was but he knew the town had been to the east of where he'd played with Wolverine, so looking at the stars, he headed east. The one good thing was that there was a full moon, but he wondered how much that would help in the areas of the woods that were more heavily forested.

Time passed slowly, like molasses pouring from a bottle. He stumbled often, and fell several times, once re-injuring his arm bad. If it weren't for those people in the cave, he might have decided to just close his eyes and take a short nap. Yeah that would have been crazy. The temperature would keep going down as the night wore on and he'd be worse off.

One again, he trudged ahead, putting one foot in front of the other. Occasionally he'd select a landmark, or kick some pebbles together to make a pile, needing to be sure he could lead dad and Bobby right back. He wasn't even gonna think on how he was gonna get back in the room with his hands tied, or what would happen if they didn't answer their phones.

*

He found himself on walking alongside the highway, toward town. Three miles. God, he hoped he'd make it. He had to make it.

* * *

John Winchester had been silent for most of the ride back to the motel. That's when you knew the man was really pissed off, Bobby mused. When the man was just a little pissed off he ranted and shouted. But when he was really royally pissed, he got quiet. Bobby couldn't even really blame the man. They'd just spent another week trudging through the woods after that blasted wendigo and hadn't come up with a thing.

They'd found several false trails but nothing leading back to the thing's lair. They hadn't heard over the police radio any new reports of people gong missing but that didn't mean much. With the amount of hunters, hikers, and people living alone up in cabins on the mountain side it could be weeks before anyone was reported missing. That was why it had taken so long for them to realize the thing was up here in the first place.

By now it was probably hibernating again and Bobby knew they'd never find it. So did John hence the reason the man was pissed. Yeah, this hunt had turned out bad. They hadn't been able to save anyone. But it could have turned out worse too. Bobby knew John wasn't ready to look on the bright side yet however so he decided to remain silent.

It was already pitch dark, the headlights of the Impala barely cutting through the fog that had begun to settle on the ground. So it wasn't really a surprise that Bobby almost missed the figure walking along the side of the road. That it took him a couple more seconds to recognize whom it was, and realized he wasn't seeing things. Oh bloody hell.

"John, stop the car!" Bobby yelled, jarring the other hunter out of his own thoughts, and John immediately slammed on his brakes.

"What the hell…!" But John's rant cut off mid sentence when he saw what Bobby had seen and he was out of the car in a split second then. His voice a mixture of anger and worry as he called, "Sam!"

* * *

A couple of cars had passed him, none even slowing down when he tried to gesture. It was dark though, and they probably couldn't see his condition. Then he heard the loud roar of an engine coming up behind him. The car passed him, then pulled over on a dime, laying some skid marks on the road most likely, at least he thought so from the smell of rubber. At first he figured it was someone who'd give him a ride, but then the man got out and he heard his dad's voice coming toward him. It had to be wishful thinking, it just had to. But through bleary eyes, he saw the large, solid man, and it really was his father.

"Dad! Thank God. Dad..." he stumbled again, almost falling to his knees, but stubbornly refusing to go down. When his dad was close enough, he swayed toward him, his bound wrists raised up so his dad could take care of the ropes. "Wendigo," he croaked, his throat so parched it hurt to speak. "There are... other people... tied up." He licked his lips and kicked himself for the tears that started to fall, though he fought them. "I couldn't get out of this, couldn't get them. Gotta go back, promised," he said, sobbing slightly as he took in a deep breath.

He saw Bobby step out of the car and come up to them, and leaning in, wiped his face against his dad's shirt before Bobby got to them. "Have to go back. Have to hurry," he insisted, despite the fact he was so exhausted and in pain, he was close to fainting. "Shoulder..." he managed to say, to avoid being jostled.

* * *

It was really his son. John almost couldn’t believe it. What the fuck was Sam doing all the way out here?!

John almost yelled just that, not caring who heard him. But seeing his son stumble, hearing the relief in the boy’s voice upon seeing him, the hunter was instantly replaced by the father, and the man decided he could be pissed off at Sam later. Once he was sure his boy was all right.

He ran towards Sam, his heart seizing in his chest when he got a good look at his son’s condition. The boy was bloody, bruised, and obviously exhausted. When he caught Sam before the boy could fall again he also saw his bound hands and John’s worry tripled. What the hell had happened to Sam?!

As he started untying the ropes around his son’s wrists, able to see clear rope burns in Sam’s skin even in the darkness, Sam gave him his answers in one word. Wendigo. If Sam wanted to give John a heart attack, the boy almost succeeded.

The Wendigo had caught his son?! How?! Sam had disobeyed him, left the room for some reason, it was the only explanation. There was no way the creature could have gotten past the symbols he and Bobby had erected on the door and windows. John was angry, furious even, that Sam had disobeyed him. But right now he was more terrified. Sam could be dead now!

“Easy. It’s all right now. I’ve got you, son.” John reassured, wanting to hug his son to him but afraid of hurting him more, the boy was obviously in pain. When Sam mentioned his shoulder, John gently felt along the boy’s shoulder and immediately could tell it was out of joint.

Through his worry the hunter latched onto what else Sam was trying to tell him. There were others still in the wendigo’s lair. Sam knew where it was. His son wanted to lead them back there. The father in him rebelled at that idea. He wanted his son out of here! He wanted Sam someplace safe. He wanted to take his boy to the hospital, right now. But the hunter insisted that if they waited it might be too late.

John looked up, met Bobby’s eyes, and he could see the same ideas warring inside the other hunter. The other man finally gave him a hesitant nod. It was John’s call. John set his jaw and returned the nod, looking back down at his son. The hunter was back. John started to take off his belt and knelt down in front of his son.

“Sam. I want you to bite down on this, all right?” John said, lifting up the belt to his son’s mouth and waiting for the boy to do so before he took a hold of Sam’s injured arm and shoulder. Bobby moved behind the boy to brace him, and in one quick pull and twist he popped the shoulder back into joint. 

* * *

He hurt all over. He was still panicked, only he was too tired to show how afraid he was for the others and by what he'd witnessed. And yet his father's calm gaze and the strong arms supporting Sam, his way of talking, unrushed and authoritative, seemed to ease Sam's worries. It would be alright, now his father was here, it would be alright. He relaxed slightly as the two men agreed to go help the Wendigo's other victims but his eyes widened when his father dropped down and gave him his belt. It only took a split second for Sam to realize what was up. He'd seen his father bite on something and right a displaced shoulder often enough.

Afraid of the pain, but more afraid of showing his fear, Sam stoically took the belt in his mouth and chewed down. He closed his eyes in anticipation and unconsciously shrank back a little against Bobby. The pain, when it came, was sharp, searing him through the shoulder. If he hadn't had the belt, Sam was sure he'd have screamed like a baby. The sound of bone moving into place had been as sickening as when he'd pulled his shoulder out. His eyes were still squeezed tightly shut when he felt his father tug on the belt and whisper for him to let it go. Taking a deep breath, Sam released it and moved his shoulder a little. It still hurt like hell, but he gave his dad a nod. "Water," he croaked.

His dad got him into the car and Bobby made a U turn back down the highway. Sam drank his fill, and watched the road. When he saw his land mark, he pointed. "I came out of the woods there. It was a straight shot, I tried not to veer of in any direction. The car can maybe go partway," he said, unsure. The tree growth had been thicker a little further into the forest.

The car dipped as it went off road, the movement jolting Sam. He gave a small grunt of pain, once again unconsciously seeking reassurance from his father by grabbing his forearm. "Wolf saved me. Wolf... Wolverine," he said, taking more water and wincing as the car bounced more on this terrain.

* * *

Sam took the pain like a man, without complaint. Knowing how much a dislocated shoulder hurt first hand the hunter couldn’t help being proud of his son even if a part of him was still pissed off at the boy. He would deal with that later though. Right now taking care of his son, getting to the survivors, and taking care of the Wendigo was more important.

John caught the boy before he could swoon again, lifting him up into his arms and carrying his son to the car. The boy was still small enough that he could ride in the front seat between himself and Bobby so that’s where he put Sam. Bobby handed Sam a bottled water as soon as they were all back in the Impala and John followed the boy’s instructions back to where he emerged from the woods.

Even in the dark he saw the spot Sam indicated and reluctantly eased the car off of the road into the woods. As the car jostled over the rougher terrain he couldn’t help but wonder again if he should sell the impala and get a car or truck more practical for off road terrain.

Sam’s mutterings didn’t make much sense and John looked to Bobby, but the other hunter shook his head. Maybe Sam was in shock. He was certainly shaken up. Again John felt the urge to rush his boy to the hospital, he could only imagine what Sam must have gone through to escape from the Wendigo. But if they left now they might not be able to ever find the wendigo’s lair again and those people would die.

So once more the father backed down to the hunter and he kept driving further into the woods until the undergrowth and trees were simply too much for the car. So John threw the vehicle into park, took off his jacket which he then wrapped around Sam’s shoulders, and handed his son a gun.

“When we leave, lock the doors. If you see anything, anything at all that’s not me or Bobby, honk the horn. Stay here. I mean it, Sam.” John told his son, his hard look broke no argument, before he and Bobby got out of the car. Heading deeper into the woods, following the path Sam had made during his retreat, back to the wendigo’s lair. 

* * *

Sam didn't want to be left alone but he knew better than to argue, even if his throat weren't too raw to put up a full argument. As soon as his father and Bobby disappeared between the trees, cold fingers of fear crept into him. He clutched the gun tighter and kept one hand on the horn, his gaze sweeping from side to side, keeping a watch for the wendigo. He wanted to roll down the window and call out for Wolverine, but he was pretty sure the wolf was gone. Maybe he'd be at their meeting place, but there was no reason for him to be here. Still, what he wouldn't give to have him curled up next to him in the car right now.

A bird hooted and Sam jumped. Almost guiltily, he looked around and was glad his dad wasn't back to see him. Then he started to worry about his dad and Bobby. Sure, they were great hunters, and he had a lot of faith in his dad's skills. But it was a Wendigo. It was out there. And now that Sam had seen it with his own eyes, it was ten times as scary as what he'd known about the thing from hearing his dad speak about it. Shivering slightly, he hoped the people in the cave were okay. That the Wendigo hadn't come back, that those wolves hadn't only chased it away but had killed it.

*

A sound echoed through the cave. One of the tied up victims started to cry. "Oh Go, it's back."

Another called out. "Sam... Sam is it you? Help us."

* * *

John and Bobby moved as quickly through the woods as they dared. The wendigo was surely close and right now it had the advantage. It was dark. The beast was a superb hunter and tracker during the day but it was even better at night. Fast, silent, and vicious. This was its territory. It knew the layout of the land while the hunters did not. It could be on them in a split second before they even knew it was there. This was definitely not the way John Winchester had wanted to hunt the beast but they didn’t have much choice now.

The underbrush got quite thick before long, that combined with the darkness made it harder to follow Sam’s trail. But eventually they came upon a more open area ending in a sheer rock face. Carved into the rocks was a dark opening mostly hidden by overgrown vines. The hollow empty sound of the wind blowing through the passage the only indication of just how deep it went.

It would have taken a miracle for him and Bobby to find this place on their own.

Lighting a flare, hating to give away their position but it was better than being blind in the utter darkness of the cave, the two hunters ventured inside. They kept their flare guns held at the ready, listening carefully for any sound of movement other than their own footsteps or the scurrying of rodents in the dark. But there was nothing. It was utterly silent for a long time. Until they finally heard the sound of someone crying, then calling out.

The hunters hurried through the cave. Following the sounds of the voice, then the smell, to the wendigo’s lair. The cave smelled like decay, both old and new, and there were bones littered everywhere. The two hunters stoically ignored the fresh remains of one victim still hanging in pieces in the cave, instead focusing on the remaining terrified people.

Bobby stood watch for the wendigo while John quickly went about cutting the other people down. Once the last victim was freed the two hunters began to lead the people out of the cave. John wanted to get back to the car as quickly as possible. He didn’t like that the wendigo was nowhere in sight. If the thing wasn’t in its cave there was a chance it was out looking for the one who had escaped. Sam…

Outside the cave John stopped staring at the tracks on the ground he hadn’t noticed before. Some were definitely the wendigo’s. Some were his and Bobby’s. Some of the smaller ones must be Sam’s. But there were others as well… animal… if he didn’t know better he’d say they were wolf tracks. Sam had mentioned…

“Bobby, go ahead. Get them out of here. I’ll catch up.” John told the other man and he could tell Bobby wanted to argue but they needed to get these people out of here before the wendigo showed up again. So the other hunter merely nodded, giving John a displeased look, before urging the survivors on.

John began following the tracks. Some of them were _huge_. Larger than any other wolf tracks he’d ever seen. Mingled with the wendigo’s tracks. John kept his gun ready to put a burning hole through the first thing that moved in the darkness, whether it be a wolf or the wendigo. It wasn’t long before he came upon the signs of a fight, the earth torn up, tracks everywhere, blood…. And finally John lowered his gun. He’d found the wendigo, or rather, what was left of it. The thing had been literally ripped to pieces. Its grotesque head lying bloody and separate from its body the only truly recognizable part left intact. What the hell? Sam had said he’d been saved by… wolves… but even seeing the evidence before him it was hard to believe.

John backtracked back to the car as quickly as he could, shouting a warning to Bobby before he got there so that the other hunter wouldn’t accidentally shoot him. At the other hunter’s questioning look John merely shook his head.

“Its dead.” He confirmed but as far as details went he couldn’t give the other hunter that. Not yet anyway. John looked at his son as the others squeezed themselves into the impala as best as possible. He had a million questions to ask his son, but that unfortunately would have to wait till later. Right now he had to get these people to a hospital. His son included. 

* * *

As the rescued people piled into the car, a couple of them gave Sam hugs or patted him on his shoulder. Course it had to be his sore one, though he forced a smile anyway. But when he saw that his dad was nowhere to be seen, he immediately opened the door and started to ask Bobby, until the hunter snapped at him to close the door and sit tight. His finger was on the trigger and Sam could see that Bobby was a little nervous.

Sitting back, he passed the couple bottles of water in the car to the others who gratefully drank it up. Pretty quickly, the car started to stink up with the smell of sweat and blood and even urine. Some of these people had been imprisoned for days. Looking at it that way, Sam knew he was on of the lucky ones. No, he was the luckiest, because he had a wolf out there watching his back. By the time his dad got back, Sam was actually smiling a little.

* * *

In the hospital, Sam watched from afar as his dad made one of his explanations as to where he'd found all these people. He thought he heard the word 'serial killer' but was too tired to go over and get the details of what was being said. Before he was checked out by a doctor, he got to use the restroom and washed a whole lotta grime off his face and arms. Later, the doc gave him some pain meds for his shoulder and suggested he stay overnight to be given an IV for dehydration.

Sam shook his head 'no.' "I'm fine, dad. Don't want to stay," he told his father, while the doctor put in his two cents again, highly recommending an overnight stay and a psych evaluation in the morning to deal with the trauma of having been held a captive.

"Dad." Sam didn't say anything else, but let his eyes do his talking for him.

* * *

Hospital visits were always troublesome for hunters and John Winchester tried to avoid them whenever possible. Unfortunately this time it was unavoidable. The civilians needed care, and so did his son. Even though Sam’s injuries seemed relatively minor the father in him needed to be sure.

So while the doctors were examining Sam he gave his statement to the police. How he and his son were on a road trip and decided to do some camping in the woods. How Sam had wandered off and gone missing. How John had searched for him, and finally found him hours later and learned his boy had been kidnapped but had escaped. By the same killer responsible for all the other missing people in the area recently. How Sam had led him back to where the others were being held but there was no sign of the killer.

It was mostly true, and the cops and doctors seemed to accept it easily enough. Best of all it would probably match up fairly well with whatever the other survivors told the police, minus the whole monster bits. That didn’t mean John was going to be hanging around this town any longer than necessary. In fact, as soon as the doctors cleared Sam they were heading out. Just in case the local authorities decided to dig deeper, John wanted to be long gone before that happened.

So when the doctor finally confirmed that physically Sam’s injuries were minor, and his son also insisted he was fine and wanted to leave, John turned down the doctor’s recommendations to admit Sam for the night. The doctor wasn’t happy in the least. But when John reassured they only lived a few towns over, their family physician would take a look at Sam, and he would follow any recommendations given then, that seemed to at least pacify the man.

After checking Sam out of the emergency room John led his boy to the car in silence. Bobby had already taken a cab back earlier to get their things ready to go since they were leaving as soon as John and Sam got back. Any questions he had for his son could wait until they got on the road. John was certain he wouldn’t like what Sam had to say, and it was probably best he had some distraction, like driving, when his son explained himself.

One thing was certain. John hoped they never had to set foot in this town again. 

* * *

Sam gratefully trudged to the car. Occasionally, he stole a glance at his dad, wondering when he would start lecturing or shouting. Weirdly, he was allowed to get into the car before it started, and then there was silence. Closing his eyes, he leaned against the window for a moment, savoring the peace.

The next thing he knew, Sam was being shaken awake and they were outside the motel. Making a face, he blindly searched for the door handle, got it open and got out. He tried to stretch but every bone and muscle in his body seemed to ache so that was out. Eyes meeting his dad's for moment, he followed the older man to the door. Once they were inside, he saw that Bobby had packed most of their things. Before he could say anything, Bobby told him to go wash up and that he could sleep in the car.

Grabbing fresh clothes, Sam went to the bathroom and got under the shower. At first his scrapes and cuts burned under the water, but later the heat seemed to help his muscles. He soaped himself, almost surprised by the amount of grime on him. Then he took a few minutes to just relax. As the water rushed over his face and head, he thought of Wolverine. Would he wait for him tomorrow? Expect him to bring food? Tears stung his eyes at the thought of leaving the animal behind. It wasn't just an animal. It was his friend, his friend who'd saved him from dying gruesome death. He had to see Wolverine one more time, thank him, he had to.

Getting out of the shower, he dried off as quickly as he could, not bothering to dry his lower legs as bending that far hurt. Once he was out of the bathroom, he saw his dad was getting ready to take his shower too before they left. Taking a deep breath, he looked up and bet his dad's eyes. "I have to go out. Say goodbye to Wolverine," he said, though what his body really wanted was for him to collapse down on the sofa and not move again for hours. He could see the reproach in his father's eyes, and the 'no' forming on his lips. "He saved me. I can't just leave."

* * *

While Sam was in the bathroom getting cleaned up, John filled Bobby in on what he’d found outside the wendigo’s lair. The other hunter looked just as confused by what John had seen as John was. How could a pack of wolves have taken down a wendigo? More importantly, why had they done it? Not that John wasn’t grateful, if the wolves hadn’t attacked and killed the wendigo then his son might be dead by now. But it simply didn’t make any sense.

John suggested that maybe they weren’t wolves. The size of the paw prints in the mud was almost proof enough of that. But even if that were true, even if the wolves were… something else, something supernatural… they couldn’t afford to hang around. Not with the police investigation that was bound to occur now that the victims had been found.

When Sam emerged from the bathroom and announced he had to ‘go out’ and the reason why at first the elder Winchester was stunned. Then he was angry. He’d managed to hold onto his temper thus far, more worried for his son’s safety and that of the wendigo’s victims, but now he’d pretty much reached the end of his patience. He hadn’t wanted to do this now, but if Sam had the audacity after everything that had happened…

“Absolutely _not_ , Sam. You are not going to go wandering around in the woods in the middle of the night looking for some wild animal. And don’t you even dare think of arguing with me. You almost died because you disobeyed me. None of this would have happened if you had just stayed in this room like I told you to.” 

* * *

"How do you know that?" Sam challenged, knowing he was gonna catch a lot of shit for it but unable to clamp down on his out feelings. "Huh? It could have come here, if it was looking for me because of you!" Yeah it was a low blow, but it was true. Of all the people that Wedigo grabbed, wasn't it some big coincidence it had come after Sam. "Doors wouldn't keep that thing out, you've said that yourself."  


  
Voices got raised. Sam glanced at Bobby for help, but the hunter merely took one of the packs and walked out of the room.

"Dad, that wolf _saved_ me. It saved all those people. I just want to see if he's there, just want to say--" He tore his gaze away and looked up at the ceiling. "Why won't you listen to me? Why won't you ever listen to me?" He walked to the door and reached for the handle. "You could always come with me." He didn't even turn back. "It would take like fifteen minutes out of your life. Crazy, right? Thinking you'd give me that, when I'm not some stranger?" Pulling the door open, he stepped out.

* * *

John Winchester felt his blood pressure rising exponentially in response to his son’s defiance, and when the boy actually went to leave the room it was a wonder the older man didn’t have a stroke right then and there. Two steps and the hunter had grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck and yanked him back inside the room roughly, slamming the door behind Sam.

“You want me to listen to you when you are all but deaf to anything I tell you!” John yelled, not caring who heard as he pointed to the symbols he and Bobby had drawn on the inside of the doors and windows before they had left Sam here alone.

“No. Doors wouldn’t have stopped it. But _this_ would have! If you had stayed in this room like I told you, you would have been safe! Instead you disobeyed me, like you always do, and almost got yourself killed!”

John nearly shook with anger. Anger born from frustration. But also anger born from fear. The fear of losing his son. As angry and frustrated as Sam made him, he still loved his boy. Why couldn’t Sam see that? Why couldn’t Sam follow the simplest orders? Why did his son twist everything he did into some kind of mission of John’s to make the boy’s life miserable? When all John’s training, all his rules, all his orders were for Sam’s own good.

“We’re leaving. Now.” John finally snapped decisively. Grabbing his son’s good arm in one hand and his duffel in the other, no longer caring about a shower, and all but dragged the boy out of the room to the car. Bobby didn’t say anything as he passed them on his way back inside to get the rest of their things. John didn’t say anything either as he tossed his bag into the trunk and his son into the back seat.

John waited by the car, glaring daggers at the boy and threatening hell to pay if he dared to get out of the car. Bobby returned with the last of their bags and told him he’d already dropped their keys off at the front office. The two hunters got into the car and John took the most direct roads to the highway never once looking back. 

* * *

Sam hadn't known about the protective symbols on the window, but that was just one more example of the silence between himself and his father. Had his dad bothered to tell him? To explain? No, it had been 'sit down, shut up, and stay.' The last time, it had been for a whole week.

And now, now the silence between them was just deafening. Their relationship boiled down to this, just this. John Winchester grabbing him by the arm, slamming the door, telling him what was what. Grabbing him again and shoving him in the back of the car, apparently where he belonged. His dad would probably be happier if Sam never said a word. Never had a thought of his own. Never wished for anything.

Staring out the window at his dad for as long as he could hold the stare, Sam fumed. Had he asked for so much? A short walk in the woods, with his dad to protect him if it was necessary? The Wendigo was gone, so what the hell? He'd put them behind schedule for what, a half hour max? But no, why should his dad go out of his way for his son.

Twisting around so his back was leaning against the window and he no longer could see his dad, Sam put his feet on the chair, wrapped his arms round his legs and leaned his chin on his knees. His eyes stung, but he swore he wasn't gonna cry. Instead he dreamed. Dreamed of the day when he'd be old enough to get away from this. To maybe go to college, unless his dad made it impossible by the number of times he pulled him out of school so his records might look bad. Just... he just wanted a normal life. Okay, maybe a wolf too, but all he'd wanted right now was to say goodbye. In his heart, he kind of knew that Wolverine wouldn't have been there. That once he'd been forced to leave him in the middle of the woods, he wasn't gonna be allowed to go interact with a human again. So maybe to be this angry and this emotional was silly, but it was the way he felt. This was just the same thing happening over and over. He'd love something, wants something, want to do something, and the answer was always a resounding NO.

His dad and Bobby got in. It was dead silent in the car as they took off from a place where Sam had been a prisoner in his room, and yet had found a way to escape it and make a friend. A lump rose in his throat. He'd never see Wolverine again. Never get to thank him. Never be able to read to him and tease him about being distracting when he wanted to play.

Bobby asked him something. Sam didn't answer. He just closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

One day, he'd be free. 


	2. Chapter 2

Five years had passed before Sam found himself dragged back up to Washington, to the same town where the Wendigo had gotten him. The place where he'd made a special friend, a friend who had somehow saved him. A four legged friend he'd never forgotten. One that he remembered every time he petted someone else's dog, because hell no, a Winchester couldn't have pets. He was still the boy looking at other people's lives from the other side of windows, wishing his life was different. Yeah, he understood now that their work was important, but it didn't mean his heart was always in it 24-7, like his dad expected it to be.  


  
When they'd rolled into town and moved into the small house surrounded by woods, Sam wondered if his father remembered their argument. It was only one in a long line of arguments, so it probably didn't stand out in his father's mind. But Sam remembered it well, as well as the later arguments about it. When it came down to it, he guessed he loved his dad, but resented him too. They didn't really agree on much, at least on the things that mattered. He doubted his dad knew anything about him. What he liked to eat, what he liked to do with his spare time, what his dreams were. None of that mattered to the driven hunter, and he expected everyone around him, to be just as driven.

One day, Sam would be able to make his own decisions. That day was drawing closer. Hanging onto that thought, he stood in line in the admin office of his new school. Maybe he'd get to stay for more than a couple weeks or a month. Maybe the werewolf problems they were experiencing in a wide area up near the Canadian border would take a long time to investigate and handle. Or maybe dad would find another couple jobs nearby and not bother to pull him out of school. Sam hadn't had a good three or four month stretch in any one place in a long time, but he could only hope.

He barely listened to the kid in front of him explaining away his truancy and get told to go wait to speak with the vice principal. He was up next.

"Hi, I just regist..."

"You got a form?" The disinterested woman wearing her hair in a beehive straight from the sixties asked, looking over her horn rimmed glasses at him.

"Yeah." He turned the card in. "Here."

Taking it, she punched some information into her computer, then printed out a paper. "AP math, AP chem..."

As she rattled off his classes, Sam looked down, aware of some of the sneers from the students behind him. He put his hand out to take the paper, then turned and bumped into a solidly built guy. Their eyes met and Sam thought those were the greenest eyes he'd ever seen. "M'sorry," he mumbled, taking a step back. "Wasn't looking," he admitted and started to walk away.

* * *

Dean grumbled obscenities under his breath all the way to the office. It wasn’t the first time this week he’d been sent to the office to see the vice-principal and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes it seemed like he spent more time here than in his classrooms.

But this time wasn’t his fault, damn it. The other guy had started the argument. Accusing him of messing around with his girlfriend, which was bullshit. She was the one who’d been flirting with _him_ constantly despite the fact that Dean had told her repeatedly he wasn’t interested. Course it was easier for the prick to believe he was to blame than his girlfriend was a tramp. The two of them had almost come to blows since Dean had never been one to step down from a challenge or tuck his tail between his legs and run. A teacher had stepped in before it came to that however. Probably for the best since Dean didn’t feel like being suspended for fighting again.

He’d been expelled from his last school for fighting. Everyone knew it and it was because of his ‘reputation’ that the teacher assumed he was to blame and sent him to the office. People were just… idiots sometimes.

Really, he just didn’t understand them sometimes. Even though Dean had been living in this town for two years now the residents were still a mystery to him. Sometimes Dean wondered if it would be different if he lived somewhere else or if it would be worse. People thought he was strange, and he supposed he was. It probably didn’t help that he was older than most of them. He was nineteen, by all rights he should have already graduated high school, instead he was several years behind.

Dean sighed heavily as he pushed open the door to the office and saw the long line of students waiting to be waited upon. This was going to take forever. He’d probably be late for his next class and get shit about that too. The day was just turning out fucking perfect.

His irritation jumped up a notch when the boy in front of him knocked into him when he turned to leave. Dean scowled down at the new boy, about to snap at him to watch where he was going. However when the other boy’s eyes met his Dean found himself frozen instead. He barely even heard the muttered apology, his eyes fixed on the younger boy in shock as he made his way out of the office.

“Mr. Winchester. Mr. Winchester!” Dean finally snapped out of his daze, turning back to the secretary that seemed just as irritated to see him as Dean was to be here. When she finally had Dean’s attention, she pointed to one of the seats. “Take a seat, Mr. Winchester.”

On his way to the indicated chairs Dean glanced back at the door to see the boy turn around. Their eyes met briefly again before the younger boy walked out. Dean sat down and opened up his backpack. He pulled out an old battered book that had clearly seen better days and opened the cover. The words were faded but still legible.

_Property of Sam Winchester_   


* * *

Hearing his name called, Sam turned from the door to see what the secretary needed from him but he saw her pointing at a chair in a way that indicated trouble. He would have walked back in but the guy he'd bumped into took a seat like she'd instructed. Giving the guy a thoughtful look, Sam turned again and pushed the door open.

The hallway was crowded with students hanging out at lockers or making their way. Many of them were drinking out of milk cartons and eating breakfast. Looking down at the card he'd been given, Sam started reading the locker numbers until he found the one assigned to him. Committing the combination to memory, he opened the locker and looked inside. Good, it had been cleaned out. When you came late in a semester, you never knew what you'd fine. Sometimes a student who had transferred out would leave weird crap. Not having any of his textbooks yet, Sam just closed the locker and spun the lock.

A long bell sounded. Suddenly everyone was rushing around. Sam picked his way through. Some jock bumped into him and had the nerve to curse him out, but Sam coolly let it slide and continued on as if he hadn't noticed. Looking up at the numbers on the doors, he picked up speed. Once he saw where he needed to be, he started paying more attention to those around him and noticed all of the pairs of eyes on him. That's how it was in smaller schools, people noticed the new kid.

He walked inside and went straight to the homeroom teacher. Tearing off the top sheet of the slips he was supposed to turn into each teacher, he handed it over. "I'm new. Ah..."

"Sit down."

No meet and greet, that was fine by Sam. As he walked down an aisle of desks, each time he started to take an empty one, he was told it was taken. He wasn't sure he was being lied to, even though most homerooms he'd been in didn't have assigned chairs. Still, it was best not to argue, especially on the first day. Finally finding a chair that no one else claimed, he sat down.

It didn't take two minutes before the guy behind him was tapping him on the shoulder and asking if he was a 'freak or a geek.' Sam ignored it for a minute, until the tapping got annoying, Then he swiveled around. "Dude, get outta my space," he said, mentally groaning when he saw it was that same jock he'd bumped into in the hallway when he'd been looking for his locker.

* * *

Dean sat in the office for all of ten minutes before the vice-principal finally came out of her office. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she wasn’t happy to see him today. Not that she was ever happy to see him.

“Get to class, Mr. Winchester. I don’t have time to deal with you today.” She snapped at him before motioning one of the other students waiting into her office. Dean figured he’d gotten off pretty lucky all things considered as he shoved the book back into his bag and got up to leave.

“I’ll see you in lunch detention today.” The vice-principal added before returning to her office and shutting the door loudly. Damn it. Not so lucky after all.

Dean grumbled all the way to his homeroom, barely making it before the late bell. Not that he really cared, but he’d rather not have detention for the rest of the week too. The homeroom teacher was asshole enough to do it too.

Ignoring the glare from the teacher Dean moved to take his seat and froze when he saw the boy from the office again. Of course, they had the same last name…

“Take your seat, Mr. Winchester.” The teacher snapped loudly, and by the several snickers from other students Dean heard it wasn’t the first time. Coloring a little in embarrassment from becoming distracted again Dean moved through the desks, his eyes never leaving the younger boy. At least not until he saw that asshole jock Matt messing with the other boy and Dean’s eyes narrowed, a soft growl escaping his throat before he could stop it.

“Back off, ass-licker.” 

* * *

Sam glanced up at the unexpected assist and gave a short laugh at the insult lobbed by the guy he'd met... sorta... at registration.

"Keep out of this, Winchester, unless you're looking for another suspension," Matt taunted, then turned back to the new kid. "You think that's funny?"

"Nah..." Sam waited a second, then added, "it's accurate."

Matt leaned across his desk, very much into Sam's space. "You just made a big mistake. I know your type." He gave Sam and up and down look. "Trash can banging band geek, or if you're not yet, you will be. Act big and bad in class when the teach is right there," he said pointing at Sam. "But who's gonna protect your ass out there. Yeah, you didn't think of that, did you? Too bad, because I'm going to fucking tear you a new one, then you'll know your place."

The guy was a lot larger then him. Definitely not the right guy to have made an enemy of, even if he could fight him. He wasn't supposed to be fighting. He was supposed to keep a low profile, get in and out, go straight home, and draw no attention to himself. Break those rules and he might be pulled out of school. His dad was serious about that, as Sam had found out several times in his life. "I don't want any trouble," he muttered, slowly turning away from the guy. He couldn't bring himself to look at the other Winchester in class, either. Not after the way Sam had backed down when that guy hadn't. Bet he thought Sam was such a coward now.

A voice in his head, his dad's, reminded him he wasn't in school to make friends or impress anyone. It was a privilege he was being given, because he could damned well just take the exam and graduate from high school with GED right now, if he wanted to. Then there was another voice, his own, shouting back that this was his life and he could live it the way he wanted. Normal!

Yeah, normal was just a dream. Always had been for him. Once, he'd been very sure in his heart that he'd get his ass into college and leave this life behind. Then he could make and keep friends and stop hiding everything about himself. It was supposed to get easier when you got older. And yet...

Under his lashes, he glanced at the guy who'd stood up for him, then looked away again.

* * *

Hearing the younger boy laugh at his insult, Dean couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips. The younger boy’s reply to the idiot jock had him snorting in amusement before he could stop himself. The boy definitely had balls.

But hearing the asshole threatening the younger boy erased Dean’s amusement of the situation in and instant however. The expression on the younger boy’s face when he backed down from the jerk only angered Dean more and fuck the threat of suspension… again.

Not really caring what kind of shit that would hit the fan as a result, Dean grabbed Matt’s shoulder and shoved him back into his seat. Even though the other guy was the captain of the varsity football team and could probably bench-press about three hundred pounds, Dean held him there easily. His expression was just as hard and unyielding as he glared down at the asshole.

“Oh yeah, you’re a real big shot, threatening a kid half your size. Lay a finger on the kid and I promise you’ll be sitting out this season with a pair of broken hands.” Dean growled at the other boy. Whatever his new enemy might have replied with was lost however when the teacher shouted at him again.

“I said take your seat, Mr. Winchester!”

Dean knew he didn’t have much of a choice, unless he wanted a one way ticket back to the office. Being sent there twice in one day for fighting would surely earn him a suspension, or expulsion. Even if Dean didn’t care much right now it would just leave the younger boy alone to deal with what Dean had started. He wouldn’t do that to the kid.

So Dean released the other boy’s shoulder after a painful squeeze, and finally made his way to his seat a couple rows over. 

* * *

Sam hadn't turned around again, but from out of the side of his eyes, he saw Dean's arm shoot out toward the jock and stay on his shoulder. He could hear the heated conversation, the threats being bandies. Still, he was frozen in place as conflicting emotions warred inside him.

He was grateful that the other Winchester had stood up for him, sure he was. And he didn't want the guy to get suspended on his account. Between what he'd heard over at registration and what the jock said, the situation was pretty clear. The guy tended to get into trouble. Course Sam couldn't tell whether he deserved to or not, but right here and now, the teacher had come to the wrong conclusion when he yelled, that was for sure.

He was also embarrassed. He should be standing up for himself and not letting some other kid do it for him.

There was anger too. Anger at the jock and people like him, people who got their rocks off bothering other people. It usually lead to bad things, things he couldn't tell them about. But how many bullied kids returned to avenge themselves? His dad had enrolled him in two schools having _issues_ , and each time, something like that had been the source of the problems. Okay now, this kind of thinking only established that maybe he was a freak...

When the other Winchester sat down, Sam finally had the courage to look over at him. Gratitude won out and he gave him a nod of thanks.

A few minutes later, through roll call, he learned the guy's name was Dean. Dean Winchester. He guessed it suited him. What were the probabilities of two Winchesters running into each other in a school ... oh wait, since they would share the same homeroom, the probabilities were a hundred percent. Hearing the bell ring, Sam sighed. He probably should be thinking about less geeky things than probabilities...

Grabbing his back back, he got up and started for the door because he'd need to find his next classroom quickly. His back pack was suddenly roughly pulled on, forcing him to stumble back and almost falling amid laughter. "Jerk," he said, watching Matt _Asslick_ walk past and through the door.

* * *

Dean was fuming all through roll call, but when he happened to glance over at the younger boy to see Sam nod at him the older boy couldn’t help but smile. Sam. Sam Winchester. It really was him…

Yeah, he was staring. Yeah, it was probably a bit on the creepy side, but Dean couldn’t help it.

Finally the bell rang and the students started herding out of the classroom heading for first period. Dean stood up and started to approach Sam’s desk. He saw the younger boy stumble, almost fall, and he scowled after Matt.

That guy had always been an asshole. Dean hoped he hadn’t made things worse for Sam by stepping in the way he had. Now the stupid jock probably thought he had to prove something.

“Hey. Sam, right? I’m Dean.” Dean said, holding out his hand in an awkward greeting.

“Sorry for… um… butting in.” He apologized, the thought just occurring to him that Sam might not have wanted his ‘help’ back there. “Being the new kid sucks, huh?”

* * *

A little disconcerted, it took Sam a moment to gather his wits and put out his hand to shake Dean's. "Yeah, it's Sam. And yeah, sucks to be the new guy. S'alright, I'm used to it," he added, wanting to be clear he wasn't looking for sympathy. "I pissed him off bumping into him in the hall. You'd think a football player would be used to getting bumped," he rolled his eyes. The class had emptied out, and they started to walk out of the room.

As they headed out, Sam looked down at his card and then at the numbers on the doors. Yeah, he probably needed to go to the second floor. Kids were rushing by, high fiving and making plans for lunch or after school. When he turned to look at Dean and tell him that he had to run cause he didn't want to be late, the warmth in the guy's eyes had him asking, "maybe you want to meet up for lunch." The instant the words were out of his mouth though, Sam regretted them. If it wasn't his imagination, Dean had quickly looked away and Sam sensed the guy was searching for something to say.

He got that too. No one wanted to hang with the new kid until it was clear what group at school would accept him. "It's alright, I ah... maybe some other time, then," he said, without giving Dean a chance to give an actual answer. "I'll see you around." Swinging his back pack over one shoulder, he quickly walked walked away. What had he been thinking, putting the guy into a situation where he had to reject him or be stuck with him? It was always better to let others come up to you, eat or hang with you if they wanted, especially when you'd only just met them. Something about the way the guy had sprung to his defense, and then introduced himself, it had made Sam think maybe they could be friends.

* * *

Sam’s hesitation in taking his hand was obvious even to him, and Dean was often awkward in these situations to begin with. Had he done it wrong? Said the wrong thing again? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done so but this time he wanted to get it right so badly.

But the younger boy did finally take his hand and Dean offered Sam a sympathetic smile as he explained what bug had crawled up Matt’s shorts. Typical jock bullshit.

Dean started to follow the younger boy out towards the hallway, trying to think what he should say now. Damn, he wished he was better at this. Talking to people. Then Sam asked him if he wanted to meet him for lunch, and at first Dean was surprised then delighted. He opened his mouth to agree, but then remembered he was supposed to serve lunch detention.

His hesitation cost him dearly, as Sam obviously picked up on it and took back his offer before walking away quickly. Dean wasn't sure if he should stop him. Try to explain. Or… what… would that make it even more awkward?

Sam was quickly swallowed up by the crowd of students rushing to their classes and Dean’s heart fell into the pit of his stomach. Too late. Stupid. He was so stupid. Sighing heavily Dean forced himself to turn the other way and make his way without much enthusiasm down the opposite way to his own class. 

* * *

The rest of the day was pretty much a blur for Sam. At the start of each class, he checked in with the teacher, was told what he would have to make up in order to catch up with the class and then got through the class. At lunch time, he'd sat alone at a table from where he could watch most everyone in the cafeteria. He had a book open next to him, just to look like he was doing something because somehow it was worse to be alone and doing nothing than to at least look like you were occupied. It didn't stop that guy Matt from flashing a 'loser' sign as he passed by but at least Sam was spared another pointless confrontation.

Sam watched people laughing and talking. Guys slapping each other on the back, girls laughing at their jokes. The more things changed, the more things stayed the same. He'd been here, in this very town long ago, and watched families, normal people, interact. For some stupid reason, he'd thought things would change in his life. By highschool, they'd get better. Now he was waiting for college for things to get better.

His gaze swept across the cafeteria and he looked out through the windows at people playing basketball. He half expected Dean to be there, on the court, with his friends. What did it matter who the guy hung out with? Shrugging to himself, Sam took another bit of his sandwich, then almost as if he was disgusted with it, crumbled the napkin it had been enveloped in with the sandwhich and tossed it into the trash. Picking up his apple, he collected his stuff and walked out.

In the afternoon, he was late to his chem class. One thing he did notice was that Dean was in the class. Maybe if he hadn't stupidly asked the guy to spend lunchtime with him, he'd have had the courage to sit closer to him. Instead, he took a chair closest to the door an when class was over, shot out as soon as he could. He had enough awkwardness to deal with and didn't need it on a one on one basis with Dean, he decided.

*

When Sam got home, to the small cabin like house his dad had rented for them, he saw the car was gone, which meant his dad wasn't around. Inside, he dropped his back pack down next to the well worn kitchen table and got himself a tall glass of milk. For a while, he stood leaning against the counter as he drank, tapping is fingers on top of the counter. He really should crack open his books and get going trying to catch up with work but there was something else he wanted to do. Something he'd wanted to do from the moment they'd rolled into town. Now his dad wasn't around to ask questions, so maybe he should just do it. Sam only hesitated until he got to the bottom of the glass. Putting the cup into the sink, he grabbed only on of his books and headed out of the house again.

The air was cool, tinged with the smell of burning wood. People must have their fires lit, he thought. Not camp fires, like he was used to with his dad, but fires in real fireplaces with families sitting around, toasting marshmallows and talking about soccer and football, and not how to kill a ghoul. Realizing he was once again skirting into 'wishful thinking' territory, Sam wondered why he hadn't been able to break himself of that habit yet.

He started to jog, heading past the school and eventually seeing the motel he'd stayed at as a kid. Smiling to himself, he entered the forest behind it and headed for the clearing where he'd spent so much time with Wolverine, a place where he'd conquered his loneliness. It was harder to find than he'd thought. In his minds eye, he could see where the clearing was and knew exactly how to get there. The forest had changed though, or his memories were inaccuracy. In the end, all that mattered was that he'd found the place.

He'd expected or maybe hoped to see signs that they'd been here, that he and the wolf had played here, but there was nothing. It was like the past had been erased. It was years ago, why should he expect otherwise? And oh yeah, he had to squelch that nagging hope that he'd find Wolverine here. The wolf was probably long gone. Maybe it had a family and pups now. Once again, Sam smiled at the thought, then sat down under the tree, leaning against the trunk. Opening his book, he never looked down at it. Somehow, he was lost in thoughts of the past and then he slipped into sleep.

* * *

The school day had passed even slower than normal for Dean. Every time he stepped into the hallway going from one class to another he’d hoped to run into Sam again, to talk to him again, apologize… or something… He couldn’t believe how badly he had blown it before. He had been waiting so long to see Sam again and now he wasn’t sure if the younger boy hated him or not. Most people did. The thought of Sam hating him…

Dean sighed heavily, resting his head on his hand propped up on the desk, not really paying attention during math class. He knew he couldn’t afford not to pay attention, he was already so far behind, but he couldn’t really help it. All he could think about was Sam Winchester.

He’d almost given up hope of ever seeing Sam again. It had been five years since the last time he’d seen the other boy. Four years since his decision to leave his family behind and took the name of Winchester. They’d told him it would be hard, and it had been. They told him he was foolish for making this choice, and some days he even agreed with them. But Dean knew it was just something he had to do. He had to find Sam.

Now, he had. He didn’t even have to leave like he’d been expecting he would one day have to. Sam had returned, and now… what if he’d ruined everything?

Those depressing thoughts followed him around all day long. It wasn’t until almost the end of the day, in chemistry class when he finally saw Sam again. His hopes brightened for a moment when the younger boy’s eyes met his, however his hopes were dashed cruelly when Sam sat as far away from him as he possibly could. Then once the class was over Sam practically ran out the door.

Crushed didn’t even begin to cover the feeling inside of him but he buried it deep. Refusing to show what he felt to anyone. No one else could understand. No one else would even care.

Dean didn’t even finish the rest of the day, skipping his last two classes. He just didn’t want to be around anyone right now. Which was why he didn’t return to the reservation, not wanting to explain to his cousins why his mood was so dark. Instead he slipped into the woods outside the school and started to walk with no real destination in mind but he wasn’t worried about getting lost. He knew these woods better than he knew the back of his own hand.

The familiar sights and smells started to calm him at least, even though it didn’t really lift his depression. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when his feet took him instinctively to the spot where he’d first met Sam. The old rusted remains of the trap were still there. Dean didn’t linger there, not wanting to relive those memories right now.

When he finally reached the clearing near the motel Dean paused at its edge, realizing for the first time that he wasn’t alone out here. Sam… why was he so surprised to see the younger boy there? He had never forgotten the boy but he hadn’t held out much hope that Sam would remember him. Why else would Sam be here?

Dean wanted to be happy but he couldn’t help remember how Sam had avoided him before. What if Sam didn’t want to see him here… as he was… But if he walked away now, would he regret it every day after? Just like the day he had first left Sam?

Taking a deep breath Dean finally stepped into the clearing, purposefully stepping on a branch to announce his presence. 

* * *

Startled awake, Sam placed on palm on the ground preparing to get up, and the other instinctively went to his waist, where he had a hidden knife. He might have been at peace in this place but he would never, ever forget his last foray into these woods. When he saw it was Dean Winchester, the guy he'd been both looking for and avoiding all day, it didn't put him at ease. He didn't really know the guy and had thought it would be cool to see if he could make a friend, or at least have someone to spend lunch time with. But he didn't really know the guy, or anything about him. Which made him wonder... how the hell had he found Sam in the middle of the woods?

He kept his hand where he could pull the knife if he needed, but was pretty calm. It was just that Sam didn't believe in coincidences.

"Dean." He gave the guy a nod. "What are you doing here?" Sometimes it was best to be direct and get the important questions out of the way.

Meeting the guy's eyes, Sam saw warmth and pain, a depth of emotions that made him feel like he was trespassing and made him want to look away. 

* * *

Dean froze when Sam jerked awake. He hadn’t meant to startle the younger boy this badly and Sam’s reaction was a little unexpected. His eyes flickered down to where the younger boy’s hand had shifted to his waist. He had little doubt a weapon was concealed there and once more Dean began to doubt his actions. Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all. He tried to appear as non-threatening as possible, making sure Sam could see his hands and know he was not armed or anything. It didn’t seem to do any good however, as the younger boy remained on edge and distrustful. His eyes locked with Sam’s once again and he found himself taking a step back.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Dean apologized sincerely. Sam’s question catching him off guard a little and he wasn’t sure how to respond. The younger boy probably thought Dean was stalking him or something. There was really no logical explanation he could give for being out here. The woods were vast. This spot wasn’t exactly on his way home or even close to the school. But… maybe he could tell some version of the truth.

“I… found this place a few years ago. I like coming here. To think…” Dean offered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugging. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Would Sam believe him, or would he think he was some kind of creepy stalker? Then a thought occurred to him, and he shifted his book bag, unzipped it, and pulled out the old battered book he always carried with him. Clearing his throat a little he held it out to Sam.

“Um, is this yours?” Of course Dean already knew the book belonged to Sam. But at least it would prove to the other boy that he really had been here before and he was not following Sam. Right? 

* * *

Sam could tell Dean was embarrassed, or maybe the right word was 'uncomfortable.' He guess it was normal, seeing as he was feeling a little weirded out too. Even before Dean went to pull something out of his bag, Sam had started giving him the benefit of the doubt. What if this was on the way to the guy's house or something, a short cut?

"It's a good spot for thinking or... you know, sleeping," he said self consciously, seeing as he'd fallen asleep. If his dad knew, he'd kick his ass, at least metaphorically. "I used to come here," he started, but trailed off when Dean asked if the book in his hand belonged to Sam. Getting up, Sam took it and glanced at it. His lips quirked into a smile as he turned some of the pages and shook his head. "Yeah, it's mine. Or it was, a long time ago," he said, passing the book back. "How weird is that? I mean, you come here to think, find the book and then I'm here. It's almost like magic."

Yeah, Sam didn't mean 'good magic.' It had the makings of bad magic. But only because he was so freaking brainwashed to think so, he told himself. Hell, if he listened to everything his dad drilled into him, he'd never have found this place, never would have saved Wolverine. Yeah, and a bunch of people might be dead, not that he wanted to or would think about the parts where his dad had been right.

"So, sci fi is your thing?" he asked, pointing at the book with his chin. Sure he'd been reading it five years ago, but his reading levels had been high school and above even back then. "Lemme know what you think of the book once you finish." He'd seen the dog eared pages, but wasn't sure whether whether they were old or new.

Taking a step back, he leaned against the tree, much less tense now. "So... what do you come out here to think about? Strangling the chem teacher?" he acknowledged they'd been in class together. "Or, who you're gonna ask to the dance?" The latter was most likely. Dean was good looking. Really good looking. There was something magnetic about his eyes, and when he smiled... Yeah, he was being an idiot, Sam decided, and put a stop to that train of thought.

* * *

It was awkward, but at least Sam had started to relax a little. Enough that his hand no longer hovered in reach of his weapon when the younger boy finally rose and approached him. Dean handed the book over, holding his breath a little as Sam examined it, and when the other boy finally smiled Dean felt his own tension beginning to ease a little. Sam believed him. That was a start, at least.

He was a little shocked however when Sam gave him the book back. If it belonged to Sam, wouldn’t Sam want to have it back? Instead Sam was giving it to him, and Dean couldn’t help but return the younger boy’s smile as a warmth filled him that was a bit unexpected from such a simple gesture.

Dean chuckled softly as he looked down at the old beaten up book in his hands.

“Yeah, magic.” He agreed softly, and in a way maybe it was. Dean had certainly not expected to see Sam again. Here of all places. Like this.

He looked up at Sam again when the younger boy asked him about the book and Dean felt himself flush a little in embarrassment, glancing away. Even though he’d had the book for years now he hadn’t been able to start reading it till very recently and it was still a struggle to get through.

“Its good. I don’t… read very well.” Dean admitted, shrugging a little. Even though he had been working hard over the last four years there was still a lot that he wasn’t very good at. He’d learned enough that he could go to school at least and maintain a C average in the lower level classes but every day was a struggle. There had been no end to the teasing he’d received from some of the students because of how much an ‘idiot’ he was, but he tried his best to ignore most of it. He hated admitting it to Sam though, he didn’t want the younger boy to think he was an idiot too. But he didn’t want to lie to the other boy either.

When Sam asked him what he came out here to think about Dean couldn’t help but chuckle again at the other boy’s joking. Dean shook his head.

“Nah. I just like it out here. It’s peaceful, you know? I feel more at home here than, you know, out there. Sometimes.”

* * *

A long time ago, Sam had felt more at home right here, with his wolf, than he did alone at the motel room. Or not so alone, but constantly being yelled at and told he was being foolish, careless, wanting things that were unreasonable. Out here, he'd been on equal footing with the wolf. He'd read out loud, and the wolf had patiently listened for a while, until it managed to tempt him into playing. "Yeah, I get what you're saying about this place. I'm glad someone else found it," he said. "You've never seen a little wolf pup around, have you?" What a stupid thing to ask. "Never mind," he said, rolling his eyes at himself.

His gaze fell to the book, still clutched in Dean's hand. "You have dyslexia?" he asked. It was starting to get dark but he could see the color rise to Dean's cheeks and was sorry if he'd caused it. "You know, I've done a lot of tutoring. If you want any help with classes, any of them. Or reading, I can try to help." Now he just sounded like a show off. Sam wasn't sure why he couldn't get anything out right when he talked with this guy. It was like he was cursed or something.

"No pressure. And it doesn't even have to be at school, if you're... ya know, worried about hanging out." This time, he gave Dean a clear out and promised himself he wouldn't feel hurt if the guy took it.

* * *

Dean blinked when Sam asked him if he'd seen a little wolf pup around here and fought the urge to smile. On the one hand he was elated that Sam had remembered him after all this time. On the other, Dean hadn't exactly been _little_. Sure, he'd been young, but he wasn't a baby.

He wondered what Sam would think of him now, all grown up? Would Sam even recognize him?

The insane urge to tell the younger boy exactly who he was entered Dean's mind for a moment before he dismissed it. Dean knew better than anyone how dangerous humans were. His mother had been one of many of his pack killed by hunters not long after Sam had left, and his family had moved further into the woods to escape them. Most of his kind wanted nothing to do with humans. Ignoring their dual nature, preferring to remain in the wild where life was far simpler and Dean understood why.

But Dean had never been able to forget Sam. The boy had shown him such kindness, shown him that not all humans were monsters like his father believed. So once the change started to manifest, Dean had chosen to live among the humans. His father had been enraged of course, and for a moment he'd feared his father would kill him rather than let him leave.

Instead his father had turned his back on him and that had been one of the most painful moments in Dean's life, but it had not dissuaded him. Dean made his way to the reservation, where others of his kind that chose to live as humans resided together. Learning to be human was difficult but he'd been praised as being a fast learner. Which was why he'd been allowed to go to school. High School… if he'd known what he was getting into maybe Dean would have decided it was better to live in the woods after all.

Sam offering to help teach him was unexpected, and Dean's eyes widened in surprise. It was more than he could have hoped for. But almost as soon as Sam suggested it he started telling him how he didn't have to spend time with him. Remembering how his failure to answer Sam quickly enough regarding lunch had made the younger boy act towards him, Dean blurted out quickly.

"No! I mean, I would like it. If your willing to… tutor… me. If you want." Dean said, blushing a little more realizing he probably sounded like an idiot. "I'd like to hang out. I wanted to hang out before, at lunch, but I had detention." He admitted a little sheepishly.

* * *

The sharp "no" had Sam steeling himself and preparing to act like it wasn't a big thing, but Dean didn't stop there. He went on to say yes. More than just a simple yes, he gave a reason, a really good one for refusing to spend lunch with him. All those hours of regretting having asked him to begin with, the hours of wondering how lame the guy must think he was, all of it was wasted. He felt a smile breaking out. "Really? That's awesome. I mean, not that you were in detention, but that you'd like to hang out."

He could kick himself. Sometimes he had trouble talking to girls, and now, to a guy? He really needed to get over all this awkwardness that he carried around.

"We can start with the tutoring tomorrow, if you like. I guess the school library is open until four thirty. Or we could do it at your place." Sam wished he could offer up his own home, but that was out of the question, at least while his dad was around. Just imagining his dad's reaction to him bringing a friend over was like being doused by a bucket of cold water. John Winchester wouldn't mince his words and would likely make it clear to Dean that Dean was not welcome. Then Sam might never be able to face him again. It wasn't like that had never happened before. "Start with reading or whatever you're having the most trouble with," he said.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked closer to Dean and nodded. "I need to get home in a little, but maybe you can give me a tour of the town. All two streets of it," he said with a snicker. "What do you say?"

* * *

Seeing Sam’s smile was well worth any awkwardness Dean felt at not knowing the right words to say and he suddenly didn’t care if the younger boy thought he was a complete moron. Well, ok he cared, but even if Sam did think that the other boy didn’t seem to mind. That was good enough for him.

Dean returned the younger boy’s smile and laughed a little. His nervousness beginning to bleed away when Sam went on to say it was ‘awesome’ that he wanted to hang out.

“The library is cool.” Dean agreed with a nod, though he hoped he wouldn’t have to wait until after school for Sam to want to ‘hang out’ with him. Maybe Sam would want to sit together at lunch? Or sit with him in chemistry class? He hoped so, and not only because Dean understood chemistry even less than he understood reading.

He didn’t want to ask for too much though. The last thing Dean wanted was for Sam to change his mind. So he would be content with whatever the younger boy wanted to do.

Did this mean they were friends now? Dean hoped so.

Sam asking him to show him around town made Dean laugh and nod.

“Yeah, it’s not much of a town I guess. But I can show you around though.” Dean agreed, stowing the book in his bag once more and slinging the book bag over his shoulder. He preceded the younger boy out of the woods, not really knowing what to talk about Dean decided on the safe subject of school. Talking about the classes and some of the teachers. Which ones were dicks and which ones were kinda cool. He told Sam about the drama that had unfolded that morning which had led to Dean’s detention.

When they reached the edge of the woods by the motel, he switched to pointing out various stores as they walked down the street. Even though it had started out a little awkward between them Dean found himself relaxing in Sam’s presence like he never had with anyone else. Most people didn’t like hanging out or talking with him. He was uncomfortable with them and most of them thought he was a ‘freak’. But with Sam he was finding it easy to talk to and not as worried about saying the wrong thing.

“And that’s the butcher shop. Sometimes the hunters bring in meat so they have a lot of different stuff that the grocery store doesn’t, like rabbit and deer. I like rabbit the best. At the end of the street is the bowling alley where most of the kids from school hang out on the weekend. I guess cause there’s nowhere else to hang out really. I don’t really see the point. They’ve got an arcade though…” 

* * *

As Dean showed him around, Sam recalled a lot of the places they passed. There was the little diner that he'd really wanted to go inside, but it wasn't for the food. Nah, he'd wanted what the families at the tables had... a normal life, with a dad who could joke around and who'd be proud about things like doing well in sports and getting good grades. The sorts of things he was good at. The kind of things that his own dad didn't give a shit about. Yeah, what he'd wanted back then, he couldn't have bought at the diner, or anywhere.

He was glad when they moved on, and Dean pointed out the movie theaters that Sam had either forgotten, or which were new. There was the town library, which he supposed he would get very familiar with, once his dad had him researching things. It was a given that it would happen.

When Dean told him exactly what had earned him the detention, Sam had to agree that even when you knew that talking back to a teacher would get you in trouble, sometimes it had to be done. Very often, he pushed stuff down inside him. Didn't answer other students who tried to push him, insulted him or mistreated him. If drawing attention weren't an issue, he'd be like Dean. Make them back off. His own dad wouldn't care much about detention, but he'd yell about letting other see how well he could defend himself. Or kick ass.

"Hunters?" Sam sucked in a breath, then slowly released it as the other shoe fell. "Oh sure, rabbits and deer," he nodded, though he gave Dean a look. He didn't know anyone who liked rabbit over beef. Hot dogs maybe, but rabbit? He knew how to skin them and cook them, of course. It was part of dad's required survival training. Other kids learned how to play the violin...

"Bowling or arcade. Yeah, have to agree, arcade sounds more fun." But it was a waste of money, there was that. They walked along until they got to the end of the main road, where Sam would have to turn off to get home. He didn't want to go home, not yet. "You live on this side of town?" he asked. "I mean, do you walk this way on the way to school?" What he really wished was that he could invite Dean over to watch t.v. or something. Maybe he'd get an invite, but even then, he probably really shouldn't go. He had no idea when his dad would be back but words would be exchanged if he didn't let him know where he was going. 

* * *

Dean was quite disappointed that this town wasn’t a bit larger. As short as it had been he’d really liked the time he got to spend with the other boy. But once they reached the end of the street he realized they’d have to part ways.

He looked down the street that Sam indicated, realizing that must be the direction the younger boy lived. While it technically was in the direction of the school Dean normally did not come this way, instead cutting through the woods from the reservation. But maybe he could make a detour to Sam’s house on the way to school in the morning… if Sam wanted him to.

“Actually, I don’t live in town. I live a couple miles outside of town, on the reservation.” Dean explained, nodding down the opposite road that would lead out of the main part of town.

“I… don’t normally come this way.” Dean admitted, not wanting to lie to the other boy. “But I can.” He offered, hope coloring his voice as he smiled slightly at Sam. 

* * *

"You do?" Though he'd known there was a reservation near by, it hadn't crossed Sam's mind that Dean lived there. For some reason, he'd figured there was a school at the reservation, but he guessed it depended on the number of kids that lived there. Or maybe Dean just preferred to come to go to school off the reservation. Curious by nature, he wanted to ask a bunch of questions, but seeing as he wasn't one to volunteer a whole lot of information himself, it was always best not too ask too many questions. If you did, that usually ended up being an invitation for the other person to ask, and then things got sticky.

He didn't want things to get sticky with Dean. Something about him... There was something that made Sam really want to make friends. Even if it was real likely his dad would pull him outta school again in a few months.

"M'kay, I mean if you don't mind going out of your way a little, we could meet right here." No, he couldn't be normal and give Dean directions to his house, which wasn't at all far from here. "Eight ten?" Okay, so he was freakish about hating to be late for school, so what? "I'll ah... see ya." Smiling, he walked backwards for a few steps, then turned around and shoving his hands in his pockets, fought the urge to look back at Dean as he walked away. The smile was still firmly pasted on his face long after he left the intersection.

* * *

“Here? Alright.” Dean had to admit he was a little confused at Sam’s request. If they met here didn’t that mean Sam would be coming out of his way to meet him? Well, since he was going out of his way he supposed it was something of a compromise. But he wouldn’t have minded meeting Sam at his home…

Or maybe Sam did not want him to know where he lived. That was probably it. He knew he probably shouldn’t take it personally. They _had_ only just met. Well, as far as Sam knew. Dean knew he should be grateful for the younger boy wanting to meet him at all, for Sam wanting to spend time with him at all.

He nodded when Sam specified the time, then gave the other boy a smile and a small wave when he started walking away. It was hard watching Sam turn away. The urge to follow the boy was almost overwhelming. He knew he was probably acting ‘weird’ since he hadn’t done the same, turned away and started walking home. Instead standing there looking after Sam like a lost puppy.

Dean didn’t want Sam to think he was weird. What if Sam looked back and saw him still standing here? Watching him… With a soft growl at himself, Dean turned, took one step, and stopped.

He glanced back at Sam. He knew what he was thinking and he knew he shouldn’t. He really, _really_ shouldn’t. But the woods were nearby. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to dash into them, hide his clothes and belongings, change, and….

No. As much as he wanted to see Sam happy and smiling at him like he had all those years ago, it had to be this way. He had decided to live this life, learn to be one of them, because of Sam. Yes, he’d always had an interest in humans, but it wasn’t until he met Sam that he’d wanted to go from merely watching them to living among them. It would be hard… but at the end it would be worth it. He was sure of it.

Shouldering his book bag Dean started walking home, hopeful in a way he hadn’t been for a while now. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had gotten up earlier than usual and completed all his chores. He was also quieter than usual, hoping not to wake his father up before he left the house. He was taking off a little early and didn't want to be questioned. Plus, he didn't want anything ruining his mood and there was always a fifty fifty chance of a confrontation during or after breakfast.  


  
Last night, he'd dutifully started the process of making silver bullets even before his dad asked him to. This morning, he'd cleaned dad's favorite handgun and left it on a towel on the kitchen table. The more he concentrated on the hunting side of things, the less his dad was apt to concentrate on the non-hunting things that Sam was involved in. It wasn't fair, but that's how it was. Sam could only work within those boundaries, so he did. The day would come that his dad couldn't tell him what to do anymore, and then Sam would get to make his own decisions and find his own balance with the life they lived.

And Dean? Maybe he was the first real step to Sam's freedom. He would show his father how wrong he was, that you could make friends with people that weren't hunters, that you could trust them. Sure, he'd have to keep secrets from Dean, but their friendship would be as real as it could. The thought of seeing him again made his heart jump, in a way that the thought of a friendship shouldn't. Was he that desperate to get friends?

Finishing off his cereal, he headed to the sink and washed his bowl out. Then he crossed the room, grabbed his backpack and pushed the screen door open, ready to make his escape into the _normal_ world.

* * *

When Dean had finally returned to his home on the reservation he was immediately greeted by Nathan. As usual his cousin was working on the old beat up Buick in their front yard and Dean stopped as always to take a look under the hood, fascinated, while Nathan went about his work and explained what he was doing for Dean's benefit. Nathan really was a genius when it came to machines, could take just about anything apart and put it back together again even better than before, and was slowly teaching Dean how to do the same. Not long after Alisha came out of the house with glasses of tea for them both and a smile.

Nathan was only a few years older than him and Dean had known him in the pack before Nathan had come of age and left to join the reservation when the change began to manifest. He was still learning how to live amongst humans; much like Dean was, however Nathan seemed far more comfortable around humans in general which Dean envied.

Alisha was much older than both of them, old enough that she often pretended to be their mother to any humans who asked. From the moment he'd meant her she'd been pleasant and kind to him, always ready with a smile. She had been living among humans for a long time now and knew how difficult it was for them in the beginning, and was always patient and ready with advice. That didn't mean she was a pushover however, easily putting Nathan or Dean in their place when the boys got too cocky or into too much mischief. But they loved her and respected her.

Apparently his good mood had been so obvious that Nathan immediately began to tease him about it. But no matter how outrageous his speculations of why he was in such a good mood got, everything from having a threesome in the broom closet to the vice principal having an unfortunate accident, Dean remained tight lipped and refused to tell them the real reason. The questioning may have gone on all night if Alisha hadn't swatted Nathan on the back of the head with a dish rag and told him to behave himself and mind his tongue.

To avoid further questioning Dean escaped inside with the excuse of having to do his homework. Usually he wasn't so eager to get it done which his cousins well knew but it was better than enduring Nathan's prodding for now.

It wasn't that he wanted to keep Sam a secret, at least not forever. He knew that was impossible. But he was a little afraid of them knowing about Sam. He trusted them, loved them, they were his family, but even though they lived among humans… mingling with them on a more than casual basis wasn't encouraged. For the safety of their family, Dean knew it was important to keep most humans at arm's length. But Dean didn't want to keep Sam at arm's length. He couldn't really define exactly what he felt for the younger boy but it was strong enough to make Dean want to be human just so he could see him again. Now that Sam was back Dean was determined to get to know him better.

Dean had put extra effort into his homework, knowing that Sam would be looking it over in the morning when they met up to study and wanting to make a good impression. He was so excited that he barely managed to sleep that night and then ended up _over sleeping_. He barely managed a greeting to his cousins as he rushed to get ready, grabbing an apple and slice of toast to eat along the way before he ran out the door to meet Sam.

* * *

Sam had only been waiting a couple of minutes when he saw Dean jogging toward him. He couldn't help smiling and probably looking like an idiot, though it might be worse if Dean knew how Sam's heart was fluttering in his chest. Sam didn't understand why thinking of Dean or seeing him seemed to make his pulse climb, it made no sense. Okay, so he was happy, or more than happy that he might be making a friend, that didn't explain why it almost felt like he was falling for him. Falling for a guy. Well not falling exactly, but this felt suspiciously close to crushing on someone.

He was so caught up in trying to make sense of it that he almost didn't notice that Dean was right there in front of him. "Hey," he greeted, feeling the heat creep up his face. "Great timing, I just got here," he said, his gaze drawn to Dean's jade green eyes. For an instance, he felt a sense of recognition, but then shrugged it off.

Picking up his backpack and swinging it over a shoulder, he started walking with Dean. "There was nothing to watch last night and my dad won't get cable," he said, rolling his eyes. Yeah, he got that paying for cable was a waste of good money that could go toward paying for weapons or food, but he could still complain about it. Plus, it wasn't like his dad didn't waste money on liquor. "Tell me you had something fun going on so I can live vicariously," he said, as they headed down the street toward the school entrance closest to the library.

* * *

When Dean arrived at the intersection Sam agreed to meet him at the next morning the younger boy was already there. Dean had run most of the way but he was afraid he would still arrive late and Sam would be angry with him for making him wait. But when he saw the younger boy smile at him those fears vanished completely and Dean couldn’t help but grin back at the other boy.

“Hi.” Dean replied a little out of breath, and panting slightly. Relief flooding him when Sam said he’d only just arrived so that meant Dean hadn’t been late after all. Or at least, not very late. “I overslept.” He admitted with a laugh, falling into pace beside the other boy when Sam started walking.

Then Sam was asking him what he’d done last night, telling him how boring his own night was, and Dean laughed a little.

“Me? Oh, you know, the usual. Parties. Drunken orgies. Dancing naked under the moonlight…” He was kidding of course but the look on Sam’s face for a moment was priceless and Dean laughed again. “Hey, I’m kidding. My cousin, Nathan, showed me how to fix up his car. Dinner. Homework. We don’t even have TV so I think you’ve got me beat there.” 

* * *

Sam's mouth dropped open. When Dean started to laugh at him, he thought he might have blushed. Usually, he wasn't that gullible, but for some reason, he really could imagine Dean partying naked, in the forest, under the moonlight. Which... yeah, maybe it should disturb him that his mind even went there, or that he was feeling strangely jealous about all the fictional girls and guys he imagined with him.

"I know you're kidding!" he said, a little late to be convincing. "My dad was a mechanic. Guess I've picked up a little about fixing cars but I bet it's more interesting when you're learning from your cousin than when you're getting yelled at by your dad." To be fair, it was his disinterest that irked his father, or at least the fact that Sam wasn't enthusiastic about yet another skill that his dad thought was all important in the quest to be completely self sufficient and able to handle all sorts of situations. Then again, if it hadn't been presented in the form of a lesson, if it had just been some hobby his dad was sharing with him, Sam might have been a little lackluster about it.

They reached the school and headed up the stairs. There were other students around but it was still early so it wasn't overly crowded. "You want to get to homeroom early and go over your math homework? Or we can do it somewhere else, I mean if you don't want to..." he shrugged, knowing some people had a thing about being seen studying, even if that's what school was for.

* * *

Dean opened his mouth and closed it without a word. In truth he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Sam’s comment regarding his father “yelling at him”. Why would Sam’s father yell at him while teaching him to fix a car? He didn’t understand, and he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and possibly upsetting Sam.

Thankfully Sam didn’t seem to expect him to say anything and they spent the rest of the walk to the school in silence. Maybe that could have been a little awkward, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable and it didn’t feel all that awkward to Dean so he hoped it didn’t feel awkward to Sam either.

When the younger boy mentioned them going to homeroom it confused Dean for a moment. He’d thought Sam said he’d wanted to go to the library to… tutor him. Maybe he’d misunderstood? He hated misunderstanding things. It made people laugh at him and call him stupid. He didn’t want Sam to laugh at him or think he was stupid. So it was probably best to just go along with whatever the other boy wanted.

“Homeroom is fine. Wherever you want. I think I did a good job on it this time.” Dean replied grinning, proud of himself. He’d tried really hard to get most of the questions right since he knew Sam would be helping him.

* * *

"Library's fine too, it's just... we don't have that much time before classes," Sam noted. "But after school, we should definitely hit the library. Or hey, if we're tired of being indoors, my special forest hideout that turned out not to be a hideout," he laughed. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He couldn't bring Dean home. The library was still school. But studying out in the woods would actually be fun. "We could take some snacks and drinks with us, I mean, if you'd like to go there." He flushed a little, thinking he was making it sound like some picnic, and maybe Dean wasn't interested in that.

They walked a little faster once they were inside, and stopped at their lockers. He was still grabbing stuff out of his own, when Dean rejoined him, and they headed for homeroom.

When Sam opened the door, he saw there was only one other student there, and the teacher. Giving Dean a grin, he went in and found them a couple of desks near the back of the class and pushed them a little closer. By the time he sat down, Dean had some of his homework out and Sam was going through it.

He got through the history stuff real quick. "Answers are right, but teachers like a little more 'meat' in there. We can work on that," he said, briefly looking at Dean. "I mean it's not just knowing the stuff, it's telling the teacher the stuff the teacher likes to hear, or doing it their way. Trust me, that's half the battle."

Then he started to go through Dean's math homework and slowed down. It looked like they'd have to work on it some. "You know, algebra is all formulas. Once you get it, once it clicks, it become easy. I struggled with it a little at first but... yeah, one day... it just happened. Why don't we fix these?" Moving his desk even closer, Sam started to show Dean how he'd go about applying an algebra formula to one of the word problems he'd gotten wrong.

* * *

Dean nodded in understanding when Sam explained to him they could go to the library _after_ school. So he had misunderstood. But at least it wasn't a big misunderstanding. But when the younger boy changed his mind and suggested they go back to Sam's 'special forest hideout' instead Dean couldn't deny he liked that idea a lot better. There they could be alone and Dean would feel a lot more comfortable anyway.

He grinned at the younger boy.

"I'd like that a lot." Dean agreed and after a brief stop at their lockers they were on their way to their homeroom.

So early there wasn't many people in the school. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever been here when it was so empty. The classroom wasn't empty though, and Dean ignored the suspicious glance and frown the teacher gave him. The teacher never had liked him. Most didn't. It wasn't as if Dean _tried_ to get into trouble. But trouble did seem to have a way of finding him. The fact that Dean never backed down from a fight probably had a lot to do with that...

Dean sat down at his seat next to Sam and handed over his homework. Trying not to look too anxious as the younger boy started going through it. The history at least had been rather easy. All you had to do was look up the answers in the book. Dean wasn't at all sure what Sam meant by having more 'meat' and telling the teacher stuff they liked to hear. Didn't they just want the answers to the questions? Why ask those questions if they wanted different answers?

He sighed softly to himself, wondering why everything had to be so confusing.

The look on Sam's face as the other boy started going through his math homework made Dean wince a little. But then again, he already knew math was a rough subject for him. Addition and subtraction. Those concepts had been fairly easy to grasp. Multiplying and dividing. That had been a bit more difficult, but manageable. Algebra? It pretty much completely flew over his head. There were so many rules and formulas that he was convinced he couldn't possibly memorize. Concepts he simply couldn't wrap his head around. Why did humans even need to know this anyway? He just didn't understand it, and despite Sam's reassurances, he wasn't sure he ever would.

Forget that word problems in general were the bane of his existence, which combined two things he wasn't good at. Math and reading. 

* * *

After showing Dean how to apply the algebra formula that seemed to apply to most of Dean's homework, but going over it too quickly for much to sink in, he went ahead and made some changes in Dean's answers. That would help his grade some, if his teacher graded homework. "Don't worry, you'll get it," Sam assured Dean, seeing a look of defeat creep into the guy's eyes. "Trust me," he said smiling and passing Dean's homework back.

When Dean's fingers brushed against his, a shock ran through Sam and had him lifting his head suddenly. His heart was racing for no good reason, and he was pretty sure he was blushing. Before he could think of anything to say, that jerk, Matt sat down and started taunting him, probably causing him to blush even harder.

"First you have the same names, then you're sitting close, and now you're practically holding hands. When's the wedding?"

"Shut up," Sam muttered, pulling his hand back and sitting a bit straighter.

"Don't tell me to fucking shut up, unless you can back it up," Matt sneered, flicking Sam's forehead.

"God..." Taking a deep breath, Sam moved his desk away. "Just take a hike." The urge to slam the guy's face into the desk was strong, but Sam had to control it. Had to 'take it.' That's what his dad would want. No trouble. No drawing attention to himself. To his skills. And if it made him look like a coward in front of someone whose opinion he really cared about, it was too fucking bad. "Seriously," he whispered, his tone almost a plea.

* * *

Dean watched and listened as Sam went over the algebra formula again and again. The younger boy being extremely patient as he described the process step by step. Like it should have been simple to understand. But it just didn't click in his mind like they were both hoping, and Dean couldn't help the frustration he felt at that.

Sam didn't seem frustrated however. He even seemed to genuinely mean it when he said he would get it eventually. Dean wasn't so sure but he tentatively returned the younger boy's smile as he took his math homework back. He hated that Sam had to basically do it for him, but at least he wouldn't fail another assignment.

Their fingers touched when he took the piece of paper back from the younger boy, and Dean was surprised when Sam suddenly jerked back a little. Had Dean done something wrong? His first instinct was to apologize but he wasn't even sure what he would be apologizing for. The redness he saw creeping into the younger boy's face when their eyes met was even more confusing. He could hear Sam's heartbeat speeding up and...

It couldn't mean what he thought. But Dean felt the flicker of hope in spite of himself, however that hope was squashed very quickly by irritation when he heard Matt's mocking words. He had been so focused on Sam he hadn't even been aware of the other boy entering the room. Not that he gave a shit what that douche bag thought, Dean could tell his words had upset Sam, and that was not something he was going to tolerate.

Especially when he'd already warned him, once, not to lay a hand on Sam. Dean didn't make idle threats.

Dean's hand shot out. Grabbing the guy's wrist before he could pull it back. The other boy barely had time to realize what was going on. The flicker of surprise just forming in his eyes, and his mouth opening probably to say something like, "Get your fucking hands off me." but he never got the chance. Dean twisted the arm he held. Hard. Instantly cutting off the other boy's words with a cry of pain instead. Dean heard the teacher shout his name. He ignored it. He twisted again and the boy fell out of his chair, clutching his arm. Dean stood over the other boy now. Angry eyes glaring down at the other boy's, ignoring the plea in them. One more twist and he could snap the bastard's arm like twigs. Easily. He was very tempted to. 


End file.
